Vigilo Confido
by Lighthearter
Summary: Twenty years after the fall of Earth, a daring raid serves to ignite a full-scale war for the future of the planet. Novelization of XCOM 2: War of the Chosen.
1. Shrouds

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* * *

 _"If an injury is to be done to a man, let it be so severe that his vengeance need not be feared."_

 _~Niccolo Machiavelli_

* * *

 **Chapter One: Shrouds**

"Twenty seconds."

"Stand by." Irina pulled out her bolt cutters, and James covered her from behind, scanning the edge of the woods vigilantly. The third member of the team, a hulking fellow who went only by Obsidian for no real reason anyone could determine, hefted a machinegun and did his best to keep watch as well.

"Ten seconds." Jane Kelly checked her watch. "Power's almost back."

"Stand by," Irina snapped again, before she brought the cutters down with all her strength. Alien alloys were tough, but thin linkage was thin linkage, no matter what the links were made of. And humanity had no skill quite like its ability to break things.

"Five seconds," Jane observed, checking her cap worriedly. She glanced to the fence, wincing as she waited for-

"Done." Irina hauled their access point open, throwing the disconnected remnants aside. Obsidian grunted as the red lights on the fence towers came back to life.

"We're in." Jane ducked through the gap first, rifle up, waiting as James, Obsidian and Irina followed her.

"Right." James breathed out. "You know why we're here. Obsidian's with me, over on the left. Girls, go right. At least one of the two teams should reach the package."

"Got it." Jane advanced, heart pounding as she prayed - _prayed_ \- that Advent hadn't noticed the breach.

And no alarms sounded...so maybe, _just_ maybe...

* * *

Haze.

It flickered in and out, annoying him to no end. Everything was underwater and ethereal, as if life was nothing but a wild, incandescent dream: the type where he was _just_ lucid enough to suspect what was going on, but not aware enough to break out. The world felt heavy.

"Commander?"

"John?" Commander Edward Gallant turned, and his ever-loyal bulldog of an XO paused for a minute to touch his shoulder.

"Are you-"

"I'm _fine_ , John." Gallant turned said shoulder, trying not to lean on the rail too obviously. He also tried not to clutch his chest, but that was a losing battle at the best of times.

"He needs to sit and take his medicine." Penny Ferguson crossed her arms, giving her fractious charge a stern glare. "Killing yourself won't win this war, Commander."

"I'm here until the finish. The only one who doesn't think I can do this is you." Gallant turned his back on her, which was probably impolite but he didn't really care. He didn't need a nurse, heart condition or no. "What's the fire, Central?"

"Sir." John Bradford might have given Penny a knowing glance, but he wasn't going to jump into _this_ fray, not now. "A perimeter alert just went off at the compound in Ireland."

"Oh. So the X-rays are taking the bait?" Gallant chuckled. "Where's Marazuki?"

"Colonel Ye has him. They're making for Big Sky right now."

"Excellent." Gallant eyed the holomap, and the four red icons that showed the approaching aliens, moving in pairs. "How dangerous?"

"Looks like a few sectoids, sir. Maybe a thin man."

Gallant bared his teeth. "Get me the team."

* * *

"Door," Jane pointed out. Irina rolled her eyes.

"Well, I can _see_ that." She took up position beside it, then waved. "Come on, tough gal."

 _Wham!_ There was nothing Jane quite enjoyed more than kicking doors off their damn hinges. It made her feel powerful, even if only for fleeting instants.

" _Donut!_ " screamed the Advent soldier inside. Well, it probably wasn't _literally_ "donut", but that was all Jane understood.

"Shut up." And she enforced that decree with a burst of lead. Yellow blood sprayed, and down went the soldier on his face.

"Why's it _yellow_?" Irina wondered. Jane shrugged.

"Maybe he was about to take a leak."

"Your sick sense of humor..." Irina's accent thickened as she hurried to the cases the soldier had been examining. "Look. Lots of explosives here."

"Take all you can carry," Jane ordered. "I'll cover you on the path back to the woods. Hopefully we can get underground before they can start a sweep."

"Look at you, acting like the boss." But Irina shouldered her rifle, and she picked up a crate the size of a pit bull. "Damn, that's heavy..."

"Come on." Jane led the way out of the storage unit, checking to make sure no enemies lurked in their path. She scanned the piles of supplies, the dormant Advent troop transport... "Clear."

"Good." Irina hurried up in her wake. "Let's go, before-"

 _Ka-boom!_

"Holy shit!" Jane ducked, covering her head as shrapnel flew. An instant after the blast, gunfire erupted from the left.

"Contact!" James' voice screamed. "Multiple Advent!"

"Hang on!" Jane grabbed for her rifle. She jumped on the nearest crate, scrambling for the top of the stack. "Irina, come on!"

She popped over the top, and in an instant had her gun trained on the nearest enemy, a soldier ducking for cover behind what looked like a forklift. James lay prone behind a box of his own, while Obsidian let loose a volley of machinegun fire that tore up the ground in great streaks, lighting up the dark and stinging Jane's ears.

"Hey!" She let loose, and her own bullets joined the fray. Recoil drove the butt of her gun into her shoulder, and Jane grit her teeth, watching Advent soldiers duck for cover under her barrage. "Over here!"

"What are you doing?" James demanded, popping up as Obsidian had to reload. "Get the explosives-"

"Not without you!" Jane only let up when she ran out of ammunition, and she ducked low, swapping magazines as quickly as she could.

"Go!" James ordered, waving Obsidian away. He bent double, and then the big man was running for safety, zig-zagging to avoid hostile fire. James covered him, and Jane too as she could.

"Damn it!" Jane ducked as magnetic weapons-fire ripped through the air, red bolts shining angrily in the dark. She had to dive for a new position, too, as it shredded her previous box. Jane slid down the pile, cursing inventively as each _thump_ gave her a new bruise. "Don't they care about their stuff?"

The roaring of a machinegun picked up again. Jane scrambled to her hands and knees, sliding down from the pile as best she could and grabbing her gun where it lay. She looked around, but there was no sign of Irina, so she could only bend double and sprint back toward the fence, homing in on the sound of Obsidian's fire.

"There you are!" Irina and the crate were at the hole in the fence, and the big machingunner laid down suppressive fire as a few Advent soldiers tried to pick James off. The alien-lovers ducked, and then James was on his feet. He turned for the group, waving.

"Come on!" he cried. "We need to go!"

"Waiting on you, slowpoke!" Jane called. She took aim, and her fire joined Obsidian's. "Pick up the pace!"

He didn't. In fact, he paused, and Jane frowned. She cursed, too, and took a step his way.

"Come _on!_ " she cried. "You call yourself the commander, and you can't even run away from the enemy-"

"Jane!" he cried. "Watch-"

 _Bang!_

Red tore through his chest, and scarlet blood blew out in a geyser of agony. The bolts shredded skin, muscle and bone, and James barely had time to choke on his own blood before the last shot of the volley blew through his head, just left of his nose. Gray matter joined red, and he tumbled in a heap.

Jane stared. For a moment, it wasn't...it didn't make sense. James was...her commander was...

Then, three seconds too late, her brain realized the magnetic weapons fire hadn't come from _behind_ James.

She spun. Jane spun, and Jane screamed, but she was far too late. There were two of them, one in red and one in black, and she stared down the barrel of their cold, unforgiving weapons at point-blank range.

" _Donut!_ " the officer ordered, and for once, Jane didn't find it funny at all. Up came his gun-

"No!" Jane shrieked, as Obsidian lunged between her and danger. He shook as the shots eviscerated him, ripping through his body like paper and drenching Jane in his blood. She dropped, rolling to avoid projectiles that still had lethal force even after going through a human body, and by the time she came up, Obsidian had tumbled to his knees.

But he had a grenade, and he grinned as he bit off the ring and threw.

* * *

"Damn it!" Edward Gallant slammed his fist down on the railing. " _Of course_ he spits poison! He has to spite us somehow as he dies."

"I hate thin men," Bradford agreed. "Still, we took down one of them, and he won't last more than a few seconds. That leaves two, and they've got nowhere to run thanks to your pincer movement."

"Basic tactics. Worked in Iraq." Gallant shrugged. "Remember, we want one of them alive. A present for Doctor Vahlen."

"You and the Doctor..." Bradford might have been amused. "I'm sure she'll swoon."

"One can only hope." Gallant ignored the chuckling that ran around the command center. He leaned on the railing and his cane, eyeing the firefight and the flying plasma from the alien weapons very intently. "Finish them, Strike-one."

* * *

"No... _no!_ " Jane let loose a volley, and though the wounded officer dropped, she wasn't sure if he was dead or smart enough to take cover. "Irina, we have to...we've got to-"

"Hold them off!" She ripped open the crate. "I've got an idea."

"What?" Jane quivered, running through her second-to-last mag with shaking hands. "They're between us and the only way out...there's _six_ of them..."

"We're right over the main sewer line. If we can blow a hole through this concrete pad, we can drop in there and maybe we'll get out of here." Irina laid the gray plastic explosives in a mad frenzy, practically upending the container.

"Okay-" Jane dropped as two enemy soldiers opened up, covering their fellows as they began working their way in. "We need that hole _now_ , Iri!" She slammed her last mag in place. " _Now,_ now! The old man isn't paying us enough to-"

"Charges set!" Irina skittered backward, palming a few from the container. She rose, pulling out her detonator. "All right. Cover your ears-"

 _Bang!_

Jane let out a wordless shriek as the next shot went into Irina's shoulder. The Russian's face contorted more with shock than anything else, and then the next set of red projectiles came in.

"No!" Jane fired blind, forcing the enemy down. She reached for her friend, but Irina was too far away, coughing up her own blood on the ground. Glassy-eyed, she looked up, fishing in her pocket.

"Jane... _Jane_..." She drew the charges she'd taken, and with all her remaining strength, she slid them over the pavement. Jane caught one without understanding.

"What do you want me to..."

" _Donut!_ " the Advent troopers appeared, guns raised, and Jane fired. Two bullets came out, and then...

 _Click-click-click-click!_

"Cover...cover your ears," Irina repeated, before coughing up another gout of blood. Two soldiers seized her, and the others approached Jane, sitting frozen with fear.

"Wait...wait!" She saw what was in Irina's hand an instant before Advent did, and Jane's blood ran cold. "Wait, Irina-"

The Russian's thumb came down on the detonator.

* * *

"No!" Gallant stared as the battlefield erupted, as some burning hazard Strike-one hadn't noticed vomited flame and shrapnel that ripped through his team, flinging them around like bowling pins. The ground must have shaken, and he trembled as he saw how much blood scattered, in how many directions.

In the flash and blast, he saw an echo of his own trauma in Iraq, and Gallant's heart rate spiked.

"Sensors coming back online," Bradford notified him, down at a terminal with one of the technicians. "They were scrambled by the size of the blast. We're..."

Gallant waited. He swore as he saw the few survivors of his team, pulling their friends to safety and checking the alien bodies, scrambling for medkits as they worked. He clutched the rail with white knuckles, swearing that he would exact vengeance for this the next time he crossed paths with an alien strike team.

"No alien life signs, sir," Bradford finally reported. "They're all cold."

Gallant's eye twitched. " _Good_."

"Very," Bradford agreed. He glared at the map for a minute too. "Well...there's always more soldiers."

"That's right." Gallant clutched his forehead. "Why...do we really have _that_ many?"

Haze. There was so much haze...

"Commander." Bradford clutched his arm. "The team in Canada's running into resistance."

"They are?" Gallant frowned. "Weren't we dealing with a situation in...in..."

"In where, sir?"

"In..." Gallant breathed out. "Nowhere, I guess. I can't remember. It's been a long few days, John."

"For you and me both." Bradford turned to the hologlobe. "It looks like a few floaters are trying to kill a civilian target important to the Council. Our friend has asked us to intervene."

* * *

"So...you _do_ exist."

"You...you see the package?"

"I do." Outrider removed her mask, examining the Advent stasis pod. She glanced past the broken body of the sentry she'd disposed of on the way in, making sure no further hostiles lurked in the doorway or beyond. "I could retrieve it now."

"Negative. You'll never make it out of the city alive." Her contact sounded very insistent. "Give me time to set up an extraction. We'll remember your service."

"I'm sure you will." Outrider reached for the control switch, and with one pull, she reinitiated the sealing process. "I'm extracting. Get in touch if you require my services. And Central?"

"...yes?"

Outrider replaced her mask. "Do me a favor and _don't_ require my services."

She was gone long before anyone discovered the body.

* * *

Darkness. Pain.

 _Life_.

She hit metal. She pushed and pushed, screaming in the dark, but after long minutes of swearing and sobbing, she succeeded, and it yielded to her touch. Though her arms strained and her legs shook, she shoved the little hatch open.

Jane Kelly sunk her fingers into grass as she emerged from an old sewer manhole somewhere west of Galway, heaving herself topside with Herculean effort.

Her gun was gone. Most of her clothes were gone, and what she'd worn in place of armor was definitely lost. She'd have to burn her tattered shirt and trousers when she got home, and maybe her pants too. She was covered in shit and blood, and she stunk of Advent gore.

But she was alive. Alive, like her friends weren't.

"James...Obsidian... _Irina_..." Jane hugged herself, weeping on her knees as light rain tickled her hair, falling from the overcast night sky. It brushed at the blood and sewer grime caked over her cheeks and shoulders, but it didn't wash it away. Nothing would.

But still...

Jane put a hand into her pocket. Arthritically she withdrew it, and she contemplated the shield-shaped packet of gray explosive matter in her palm.

"...phone," she finally muttered, eyes hardening. " _Phone_."

She sank one worn boot into the mud, and then the other. Jane had to lean on a tree for support, but she _was_ alive, and she _could_ walk, and that was enough. It was more than enough.

Drums beat angrily in her heart, and she grit her teeth, forcing herself to start.

"They didn't die for nothing, Jane: not if you can get this to the old man." She spat, thinking of spraying gore and friendships ended in harsh fire. Her fists clenched. "Hopefully it'll get a few Advent killed."

* * *

 **Author's Note 1: Hello, World**

Hey, everyone. My name is Lighthearter, and this is my first(serious) fanfic. I'm a _huge_ fan of X-COM; though I was never able to get into the 1994 original and never discovered the sequels, I hit Enemy Unknown and Enemy Within like a freight train, and XCOM 2 was literally everything I ever dreamed it would be and more. War of the Chosen is currently making my life complete.

In 2013, I had the idea to novelize XCOM: EU, and I created a cast list, a plotline, and a lot of other supplementary information. I got about 3,000 words into this idea(you know, up through the opening cutscene of the game) before EW was announced, and I threw most of the material side(not AWAY...I rarely discard anything writing-wise. More on that another time). Then later, I tried to pick up the idea with EW's changes added in, and we made it to 8K words.

That was 2014. I've done _nothing_ since then, but the characters and canon linger, and when War of the Chosen came out, especially as I started to have fun with it, I thought...why not?

This story will cover from here, just before Operation Gatecrasher, all the way through the ending. I have a sizeable buffer and an excellent writing work ethic(another thing we'll touch on in a later note) but I do have to stress this story is a _side_ project. If I get a call or a request for my main line of work, this is the thing that gets back-burner'd. That said, I _do_ have a buffer on the order of 30K words as of right now, and that will only get larger by the day.

So enjoy, and stand by: I'll be uploading the second chapter very soon, and then we'll settle into a regular schedule. Until then, _Vigilo Confido_.


	2. Gatecrasher

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* * *

 _"A friend loveth at all times, and a brother is born for adversity."_

 _~Proverbs 17:17_

* * *

 **Chapter Two: Gatecrasher**

" _Advent assures all citizens that today's celebrations will continue as planned_."

"Hmph." The old man adjusted his coat for a moment, glancing warily at the nearest Advent patrol. "Perfect."

He got a few odd looks, as he made his way down the street. Most people in the city centers were a lot better-kept than he tried to be. Rough stubble, gray hair, wrinkled skin and worn, haggard eyes...they painted a sorry picture of someone too proud to seek help in the gene therapy clinics. Most people whispered behind his back, wondering why he couldn't at least _shave_ properly.

 _Maybe they should spend a week in the Underground, dodging vipers_. John Bradford shivered. _It_ had _to be vipers_.

Lights flashed on Advent security towers, and Bradford did his best to avoid them. Patrols wandered the streets, but they paid him no mind. They were preoccupied with the crowds and the growing celebrations down near the remade Eiffel Tower, now sporting an Elder in each of its four feet.

" _They've definitely got their hands full today_ ," observed his right ear. Bradford snorted.

"Of course they do. It's Christmas and July Fourth rolled into Thanksgiving, seasoned with a touch of Labor Day."

" _Americans_." She sounded amused.

"You're second-generation, Shen."

" _And I'm sure Dad gave you just as much grief about it._ "

Bradford couldn't really argue, so he coughed instead. "Tell me you've checked in with-"

" _She's here. Look for a ponytail and baseball cap._ "

"Well," Bradford observed, glancing around a sea of done-up hair and happy couples dressed for the holiday, "at least a baseball cap is a dead giveaway. She have the stuff?"

" _Unless she dropped it absent-mindedly along the way._ "

"Unlikely. I'd fire her...literally." Bradford took his place in the nearest queue, eyeing the security scanner ahead and the Advent patrol manning it. "Prep Gatecrasher. Sixty seconds."

* * *

" _All right, Gatecrasher. You're up_."

Peter Osei took a breath, glancing to his partner. Ana Ramirez nodded, and even cracked a grin.

"We'll kill them," she swore, in her Mexican-tinted English. Osei smiled right back.

"All of them," he agreed, before checking his rifle. "Where's the old man?"

" _Currently waiting in line at a security checkpoint._ " Shen sounded rather amused. " _Patience is a virtue, but I don't think he's figured that out just yet._ "

"We're coming up on the drop," Firebrand advised. Osei clutched his harness as the Skyranger twisted in the air, relying on its cloaking shield as it hovered between the Paris skyscrapers.

He took a deep breath as the rear bay doors opened, and the rappel lines dropped.

"Go! Go!" He caught one, and Ana was right behind him. They slid through the dark morning sky, going from a hundred feet in the air to the ground in mere seconds, landing with a jolt that ran up Osei's knees and almost to his shoulders. He swept his gun from his back, checking down the sights as he hunted for anyone who had seen their insertion.

"Clear," Ana announced after a moment. "Where's the clinic?"

" _Directly ahead. Get some cover and get us eyes on the defenses._ "

"Roger that." Osei waved, and Ana took up position at his flank.

"It's white," Ana observed, looking down at the tile pathway they followed. "It's all so _clean_..."

"I saw a drinking fountain back there." Osei almost wanted to turn around and visit it, just on general principles. "And their cars..."

"Cushy." Something worked over Ana's face. "Very cushy."

"Yeah." Osei spent a long moment trying to decide if he was more disdainful or envious. "Must be nice, having all the food you can eat, steady power, unlimited drinking water..."

" _Must_ be nice," Ana echoed. "I bet raising kids is easy."

"I bet." Osei didn't have any of his own, but he'd seen how hard it was to have a family in the havens. This was...this was _paradise_.

If one could stomach tyranny to embrace it.

"Hold up." Ana raised her hand. "There they are."

"Shit, you're right." Osei scrambled for cover, ducking behind a plant on display. Ana crouched on the safe side of a park bench, and for a moment, neither dared to breathe.

"I see five of them," Osei muttered, touching the comms unit in his ear. "We can't take them all."

" _Roger that, Gatecrasher_." Shen sounded like she was rubbing her hands together. " _Let's see what can be done about that_."

* * *

"Stand by." Bradford surreptitiously took a breath when the Advent soldiers, seemingly satisfied with the last of the guests, waved him up to the scanner.

He made sure his earpiece was transmitting, and then approached.

 _Beep!_

They shouted. Bradford paused, glancing left and right as the entire station's detail converged around him.

" _Mor Balaten_ ," ordered the red officer. Bradford eyed him.

And out of the corner of his eye, he saw a baseball cap and ponytail.

Pain lit up his abdomen as the officer drove the butt of his magnetic rifle in. Bradford yelped, dropping to his knees with the wind knocked out of him. He wheezed, then dared to glare at his attacker, showing all his hate for the first time in nearly twenty years.

" _Mor Balaten_ ," the officer repeated, as Bradford's partner finished her work and started off down the street.

Bradford risked a smile on the inside.

He rose, and very deliberately put a finger to his earpiece.

" _Now_ ," he ordered, glaring into the alien-lover's eyes.

Jane Kelly hit the detonator switch.

* * *

 _Boom!_

"Damn!" Osei admired the cloud of black smoke in the distance. "That's some explosion."

"Sure is." Ana sounded quite cheerful. "That'll get some attention."

The gene therapy clinic's doors opened, and Osei supposed she was right. Out came red-armored proof, too, glaring at the corner and the pyre.

"Remind me to thank the old man," Osei mused, as the officer beckoned one of his men. The two scurried off, while the remaining four sentries traded unhappy glances.

" _You and me both_ ," Shen agreed, quite heartfelt.

"I have a shot." Osei lined it up for proof, hoping none of the Advent soldiers chanced a look his way before he was ready. "Permission to en-"

" _Do it!_ " Shen ordered.

Osei's finger was down on the trigger before she'd finished.

"Nice shot!" Ana cried, as Osei's bullets ripped through one of the Advent soldiers. His friends screamed, and they snapped their guns up, firing a few blind shots that forced Osei down into cover. They scrambled for the lamppost and the car at the streetside, ducking low and chattering in their hateful language.

"Crasher-one is on the board!" he crowed, flushed with exultation. "There's more where that came from!"

" _They know you're here now. How about you shoot first and celebrate later?_ " She could roll her eyes all she wanted: Osei didn't see Shen here on the front lines.

"I'm going in!" Ana dove across the street, sliding into place by the car. A soldier snapped up across from her, but she was faster on the draw, and she ventilated his eyes in a flash and a rippling crack of bullets.

"Crasher-two, look at you go!" Osei laughed, snapping back up. "I'm going for number-"

He threw himself flat as fire came in, hot and sizzling. Magnetic projectiles ate up dirt and tile, splashing through the decorative fountains lining the park pathway. Osei winced as one nearly took him in the shoulder.

"That was close!" he cried. "Crasher-two, are you-"

"I'm fine!" She reloaded, glancing over the hood. "Don't you worry-"

"Ana!" Osei barely kept himself from diving out as a pair of red shots ripped her chest open. Ana's eyes bulged, and then the next set of shots hurled her down the street. She rolled, screaming in agony for a terrible, ear-rending second.

"Tell...tell my kids...I..."

"Ana!" Osei trembled, eyes snapping to the Advent soldier who'd flanked her out, covering in the security booth just down the street. "Crasher-two is down!"

" _Damn it! You can't take risks like that-_ "

"So that's how you wanna play?" Osei sucked in breath and mustered his courage. "Okay!"

" _Butts!_ " screamed one of the soldiers, as Osei vaulted from cover. He fired blind, forcing the far one to keep his head down as he sprinted across the sidewalk, up to the booth, over the low wall-

"How do you like it?" He smashed the butt of his rifle into the face of Ana's murderer, and the soldier screamed. Osei kicked him, and the monster went down on his side, shrieking in the Advent language as his attacker rained more and more blows.

"I'll kill you!" Osei cried. "I'll-"

 _Bang!_

"Ah!" He crashed on one knee, clutching the red mark in his side. The world swayed, but he clutched his gun tightly, grinding his teeth together. It hurt, and hurt and hurt, but...but...

"Asshole." Osei pressed his gun to the floored soldier's neck, and he fired. Gore burst backward in yellow, but he didn't care. Hot and disgusting, perhaps, but he knew the soldier was dead.

"Oh...oh shit..." He swallowed as he turned to stare down the barrel of a magnetic rifle, mere feet from his face. Osei tried to raise his gun, but he wasn't fast enough-

* * *

 _Bang!_

The Advent soldier tumbled, chest ripped open by the high-powered round. He fell flat on his face, wriggling in a most satisfying way as he tried to reclaim his gun. Evidently he figured out that was a pipe dream halfway through the crawl, because he reached to his helmet.

" _He's calling reinforcements!_ " Shen cried. " _Stop that_ -"

Two steps. One upraised foot.

One Advent skull shattered on the curb, in one of the most satisfying experiences of John Bradford's life.

" _...transmission_..." Shen didn't sound entirely pleased. Bradford scoffed.

"Central, reporting in."

" _You're late. What have you been doing?_ "

"Taking in the sights." Bradford nudged the soldier, and he grimaced when turning the man over revealed his broken helmet, and...

"What the _hell_ are these things?" Jane Kelly demanded from over his shoulder. Bradford spat.

"Us...or, at least, they used to be. Human hybrids. Advent's reward for loyalty and service." His jaw worked. "Disgusting."

" _I'd heard the rumors. I never thought they might actually be true._ "

"No one wanted to." Bradford glanced around at the broken bodies, sighing when he saw Ramirez. "We're one down."

"She died a hero." That was Crasher-one, hurrying over to join the group. "What are we even here for, Central?"

"You'll find out soon enough." Bradford turned for the clinic. "Come on. Let's-"

The shrieking of engines filled the air. Bradford spun, gun raised, as an Advent transport craft shot down over the park walkway, red anti-grav drives glowing in the morning light. Its doors hissed, and...

"Damn it!" Bradford waved, and he heard Kelly on his heels as he bolted for the clinic. "Let's move, people!"

"I'm going for the door!" Then the Irishwoman was ahead of him, and Bradford waited as she pulled out her datapad, connecting to the security computer in seconds, manipulating the technology with the ease of a lifetime's practice. The old central officer kept his eyes on the park, stewing a little more with every minute.

"Advent, incoming!" Crasher-one warned. "Three of them-" Any further report was drowned out by the blaring of his rifle, and Bradford had to fight the temptation to add a few shots of his own to the mix. If the Advent soldiers hadn't realized he and Kelly were inside yet...

"Got it!" She slipped her pad back into her pocket, and Bradford ripped the door open. He entered the gene clinic's back room, scanning for hostiles on all sides...

Then he paused.

"This is it. That's what Outrider described." He confronted the Advent pod, with its unusual Elder symbol and the array of network hookups scattered around.

" _Are you sure?_ "

Bradford grabbed the switch. He opened the pod with one pull, waiting as the shield doors opened. Tension curled and coiled in his gut, and he trembled where he stood.

"This...this is it," he whispered, finally daring to believe as he beheld the glass tube and the preserving solution inside, enveloping the stasis suit. "That's him."

" _I'm seeing a control panel. If you can connect, maybe I can-_ "

Bradford slammed the butt of his rifle into the glass. It shattered, and fluid drained onto the floor in a miniature cascade. Bradford dropped his gun carelessly, catching the astronaut-like figure as he tumbled for the ground.

"Next time," he promised Shen, as he laid the package down gently. "All right. We've got what we came for. Let's go!"

* * *

"Just go!" Peter Osei stepped in Ana Ramirez' blood as he shifted positions, and he fired on the move, clipping the Advent officer's chest. "I'll try and stall them here!"

"Crasher-one-"

" _Go!_ " Osei fired again, and the Advent soldier trying to edge his way into the clinic ducked for cover. He shouted, too, and Osei turned-

 _Bang! Bang!_

It hurt. It hurt a _lot_ , as the red slugs ripped into his chest. It was pain, and then he choked, lungs shattered and deflating, blood seeping into his windpipe. He couldn't...he couldn't breathe...

* * *

"Crasher-one is down!" Jane Kelly called, as she ducked behind the doorway into the back room. "Sir, there's no other exit-"

"Make one!" Bradford ordered, hoisting their new friend onto his shoulders. Old friend? New enough for Jane, at least. She growled.

"Right!" The Irishwoman reached for her belt, and she pulled out her grenade. "Breaching charge, out!" She ripped the pin free, wishing she was half the demolitions specialist Obsidian had been. "Heads down!"

It clattered up against the wall, beeping with red light. Jane covered her eyes, and Bradford ducked into the doorjamb from the hidden room. For an instant, nothing happened.

Then-

 _Boom!_

"All right!" Bradford shouted, as rubble blew outward and smoke rose into the sky. Jane hefted her gun, watching the door as the old man stumbled past, snarling as he carried the heavy-looking suit without complaint. " _Move_ , Kelly!"

"Don't have to tell me twice!" She backed up, firing on the move as the Advent soldiers pressed at the door. Red magnetic bolts shot around her, and she quaked in her entirely-too-expensive shoes as she wondered if one would lance into the base of her throat any second-

"Damn it!"

"Central?" Kelly demanded, as he stumbled. The tough bastard clutched his leg.

"Flesh wound!" he insisted, as Jane ducked a volley of incoming fire. "Where the hell is our evac?"

" _Right here!_ " Firebrand called, and Jane spun as terrestrial engines roared. She gasped as she saw the Skyranger lowering itself down over their position...

"Come on, soldier!" Bradford seized one of the lines Firebrand dropped, and Jane backed up at double pace, firing from the hip and getting about the results she'd expected to show for it. At least it kept Advent back for a moment...long enough for the old man to get pulled up.

Long enough for Jane to run out of bullets.

" _Come on!_ " Firebrand and Shen cried at the same time. Jane swore, slinging her gun onto her back and turning for evac.

Red flashed around her. Shots ripped up the ground and tugged at her hair in passing. One might have nicked her ponytail, and she nearly tripped over a pine cone, of all stupid things. One misstep, one mistake...

Firebrand was lifting off. She had to, under this kind of fire. If she stayed, and a shot went into her engine...but the lines were going up, and Jane made a wordless sound in the back of her throat.

" _Jump for it!_ " Bradford screamed, and Jane did, grabbing frantically at the air as more shots tugged at her trousers and burnt holes in her baggy sleeves-

 _Rope!_

She caught rope with both hands, and Jane cried out as more shots whizzed around her. She tucked her chin and pulled her legs up, squeezing her eyes shut as Firebrand rocketed into the sky, the line retracting in slowly, far out of pace with the Skyranger's wild acrobatics. Her stomach twisted and churned, and if it suddenly decided to empty, that would be the jolt that would shake her grip loose-

"Gotcha!" And then a hand caught the back of her shirt, and Jane yelped as she was yanked unceremoniously up and through the bay doors. She scrambled until her hands and knees were under her, and practically flopped on her back, gasping for the recycled and purified air in the troop bay.

"What the hell..." She sat up, glaring at Bradford where the old man sat nursing his leg, working with one of the Skyranger's onboard medical kits. "What the _hell_ did we pull out of there?"

* * *

 _We sense it._

 _We can_ feel _it, ripped away from us._

 _Our Codex has confirmed its loss._

 _No...no, no, this isn't right. This isn't right at all! Without the Commander...without his mind and his essence, without all that he is..._

 _This isn't right. We are incomplete. It is coming, and we cannot stop it without him._

 _We must return him to us. Whatever the cost._

 _We must not fail._

* * *

Something was wrong. Something was very wrong. The world felt heavy and everything was moving so fast and...and...

 _Penny!_ Edward Gallant tried to cry. But he couldn't see, and he could barely move with the heavy anchors that were wrapped around him. His mouth only made jumbling noises when he tried to work it.

Dark. Dark, and motion, and confusion all at once. He trembled, and his heart raced, and his chest heaved and pounded, and he sweated too.

Voices. People were talking. They sounded urgent, and Gallant screamed. He didn't know if any of his noise left the suit, but whoever was up there...

 _I have to get back. The aliens are attacking Moscow. I can't let them wipe out another city, not after Brussels!_

Shapes. Someone was...that was a _visor_ , and someone was wiping at it. Gallant's eyes widened as he took in a dark face bereft of hair, quiet eyes behind half-framed glasses...

 _Who the hell are you?_ was his next attempted demand. Again, his mouth slurred and his jaw worked uselessly, and words were hard to come by. He was weak, _so_ weak...his chest _pounded_ and his head was splitting...he was cut off, incomplete...but what _was_ it he needed to be connected to?

Edward Gallant didn't have a clue what was happening, and he struggled not to break down as the dark and the confusion alike brought his demons to the surface.

The visor came off, abruptly. Gallant gasped, only realizing how awful and putrid the air he'd been breathing was when fresh, cold, machine-and-oil stained oxygen flowed into his world. The slightest kiss of it made him tremble.

"Remarkable." That was the black man, the...the doctor, he looked like. Gallant flinched, glancing the other way as the world spun in and out-

 _No..._

"J...J..."

"Just like twenty years ago," muttered the gruff, stubble-coated man who had to be...but couldn't be... "They were still calling it a war back then."

Gallant twisted his head. He couldn't form Bradford's name, because his head burst with agony. His skull split, and he screamed voicelessly.

Elders. Elders appeared behind his eyes, waving their arms over him with clouds of purple light about every twitch of their fingers.

"Response from the cerebral cortex. Good." Yes, this was a doctor. He had a similar businesslike manner to...to...

 _Moira!_

"Prepping for cranial intrusion." That was not a sentence Gallant wanted to hear on his best day, and this was _not_...he stared at the device in this man's hand, and his eyes would have widened if not for the pain.

Pain. Pain, and light...

One of the ugliest faces of his life leered before him, smirking as it pressed a device into his mouth. Gallant shrieked and squirmed as whatever he was putting in drilled into the roof of his mouth, pressing upward with gusto that made the one-time Commander want to die on the spot.

Then it was over. The aching misery lingered, but Gallant could only choke as the thin man smirked, making sure to give him a little slap before it turned away...

"I've managed to identify the connection. Preparing to make final incision."

Gallant screamed again, as this doctor added a new tool to his work. He could barely move the slightest muscle, and was utterly helpless as the torturer tore into him, cutting and pulling and taking and...and...

 _Why won't you just kill me?_ he wanted to demand. _Do it!_

"These readings are getting _really_ erratic," observed a worried voice. Gallant did his best to flail and look, but even when the device came out, he couldn't. Who _were_ these people?

"Of course they are. These implants were never designed to be removed. We are risking-"

"No Plan B here, people," Bradford snapped. It couldn't be Bradford. He was too old, too musty...no. This had to be his secret older brother, or even his father. It _had_ to be. "Do it."

Gallant waited as the doctor traded glances with the woman at his side. His assistant, maybe? Neither looked happy, but they seemed determined in spite of it.

Gallant's eyes widened when the doctor produced his next tool, all pincers and tongs-

" _Ahhhh!_ " He couldn't help but scream as it went into his mouth. Steel tendrils dug into his flesh, and then they seized something else buried deep inside. His fists clenched inside his suit as the doctor started tugging...

In one eye, he saw the doctor. In another, he saw the thin man, both shoving and pulling and torturing...which one was real? Which one was the dream?

"Got it!" the doctor cried, and Gallant howled as he ripped something solid from the roof of his mouth. Pain and... _haze_ shot through his brain, and everything went white-

 _The base shuddered as the aliens pressed their assault. Gallant ducked behind a control console, grabbing for his laser pistol. He heard medics shouting and Strike-one's weapons blazing, but there was little they could do against a swarm of mutons and mechtoids._

 _"Doctor!" cried Penny Ferguson, and Gallant's blood ran cold. He popped up, taking a potshot at the first thin man he saw._

 _"Vahlen?" he cried, insides turning to paste. Penny was down with Shen by the hologlobe, and Gallant eased a little inside when he saw Bradford with them, blazing away with a pistol in one hand and their lone captured alien grenade in the other._

 _He heard it. Before the lumbering muton brute could reach Gallant, he heard it, and he turned with pistol upraised. He managed to get a shot off, but it was low, and the creature stormed on without regard._

 _"Commander!" Bradford cried, as the butt of the muton's rifle cracked Gallant's skull. His world went dark in an instant, but he still heard Penny's next announcement._

 _"No pulse..."_

White. White was everywhere. Gallant flinched, taking shuddering breaths.

"Pupillary response normal. Vitals stabilizing." A flashlight. That was a _flashlight_ , shining down into his eyes, and Gallant sighed in relief when the doctor flicked it off. He turned to Bradford, very formally. "Procedure complete."

"I told 'em it would take more than that to keep you down." The old XO loomed, and a smile split his craggy features. "Welcome back, Commander."

* * *

 **Author's Note 2: On Canon**

I know that in the actual cutscene, it's Jane who gives Bradford her opinion on Advent having their hands full, not Shen. I've made this change deliberately, along with a host of others throughout this chapter and the following ones: I do not intend to lose sleep attempting to _exactly_ transcribe every cutscene and line of dialogue, so even when I believe I _can_ do so, I'm going to actively make a few changes on general principles. " _Broad Strokes_ " is the philosophy guiding this story, and so long as I maintain that, I'm going to be perfectly satisfied.

That's just a warning for later, because several later cutscenes are going to be more markedly different, with entire lines of dialogue cut, given to different characters, or re-ordered compared to events happening in the background.

I've always felt that the Commander's extraction happened in Paris. I don't know why, but I feel _very_ strongly about that, so it was the logical place to set this chapter. And yes, the X4 charge Jane used on the patrol is one of the collection she recovered from the facility in Shrouds. I always wondered how she got it - if she obtained it from XCOM, I wanted to know how a guerilla organization somehow invents a plastic explosive that can take down an entire alien complex with one charge. X4 being rebranded alien tech seemed likely, so I invented a way for XCOM to get it.

Until next time, _Vigilo Confido_.


	3. Sea Legs

__Please remember to favorite and follow!__

* * *

 _"All warfare is based on deception. Hence, when we are able to attack, we must seem unable; when using our forces, we must appear inactive; when we are near, we must make the enemy believe we are far away; when far away, we must make him believe we are near."_

 _~Sun Tzu_

* * *

 **Chapter Three: Sea Legs**

"Penny!"

"Easy!" A hand caught Gallant's shoulder as he tried to snap upright. His eyes snapped left, and he froze, grappling not only with the touch, but with what his brief stint in combat medicine made him feel quite comfortable diagnosing as one _metric fuckton_ of pain in his upper jaw.

"J...John?" He took his former XO in, not quite daring to believe it. " _John_?"

"I'm here, Edward. Sir." Bradford managed a worn smile. Gallant blinked.

"How long was I out?"

"Two days."

"Did you...did you sleep..."

"That's not important." Bradford patted his shoulder...then extended his other hand. "Here. Don't imagine you've had much chance for the last good while."

"Much chance..." Gallant blinked slowly as he regarded the little container in his old friend's hand. "Is that..."

"Your meds. For the heart, for the shrapnel, and for the leg." Bradford waited until Gallant slowly took the bottle, then reached behind him for a glass of water. "Take your time. Small sips. Don't know how much you'll be able to keep, with all those painkillers Tygan put in you."

"Wait." Gallant looked around at the little room, spartan and martial in decoration. "Where's Penny?"

Bradford's eyes darkened. "Edward..."

"How long has it been?" Gallant shook as he thought of his adjutant, minder... _nurse-maid_...and how much she'd been to him. Like a sister, like a daughter... " _How long_?"

"Twenty years. It's March, 2035."

Gallant thumped down on his back, staring at the ceiling, He shook, and only Bradford's lightning grab kept him from spilling his pills all over the floor.

"She's gone, isn't she?" Gallant whispered.

"Lost a lot of good people over the years, looking for you." Bradford sighed, looking down. "I'm sorry, sir. She never gave up hope."

Gallant sucked in breath, even as loss coiled up and ripped at his heart. His eyes stung, and he scrambled to turn away before Bradford could see. "Vahlen? The others?"

"I don't know. She went off-grid after the base fell. I've been looking just as long as for you, but she's given me the slip. Zhang went underground, with his connections. I've tried to find him, too, but to no avail. Maybe he's with the Reapers..." Bradford shrugged. "How much do you remember?"

"I remember...flashes." Gallant paused to take his medicine, a pill at a time. "A peace signing. The base. Paris."

"Paris," Bradford agreed. "That's where we found you."

"They took over, didn't they?" Gallant sat up more fully, finding he lay under white sheets stamped with the XCOM insignia. "They won. We lost."

"They won, but we didn't lose." Bradford rubbed the back of his neck. "Yeah. The governments yielded. France held on to the bitter end with Russia and Japan, but when the aliens razed Detroit, the US pulled out. Without their supply of manpower and equipment...we had Russia, but China was already gone, and Western Europe only had so much to give."

"Great." Gallant lingered over his glass of water, wincing while his stomach churned. "And now what? Is the world a chryssalid breeding ground?"

"Some parts of it, in the wild. They like Africa. Monkeys." Bradford leaned forward. "Advent's what they call themselves: a one-world-government. A Regime, lording it over the weak and headed by the Elders, but they don't show their faces much anymore. Speaker Innmann is the closest thing the world has to a public leader, and he's a puppet on a string. They rule in the cities."

"And we're the insurgency." Gallant scoffed. "Terrorists."

"We're not terrorists," Bradford insisted. "Not like you fought in Iraq, not like I flew against in Afghanistan. We're freedom fighters."

"Same damn thing: just a different side of the wall." Gallant threw the rest of his water back. If it made him empty his stomach, so what?

"The aliens rule with propaganda and fear," Bradford continued, looking uneasy. "They draw people in to their city centers with the promise of a cushy life: food, drink, entertainment, gene therapy to cure all their ills and aches, and jobs-"

"Gene therapy?" Gallant paused. " _Cure all ills and aches_?"

"I know what you're thinking." Bradford shook his head. "It's the aliens, Edward. It's not worth it."

"Easy for you to say." He reached up to massage his chest. "To take all this away..."

"That's how they lure you in. They turn you to their side and make you join them."

"Doesn't sound like things are too bad," Gallant snapped. "Yeah, a lot of people died, but Advent's cured cancer and damn near everything else, and they're offering food to everyone. What are _you_ doing?"

Bradford's eyes hardened. "I'm trying to find out why people are disappearing in droves from their cities."

Gallant paused. "What?"

"You think I haven't had the same thoughts you have?" Bradford scoffed. "I've met a man who worked in New Providence. He saw all of this up close and personal. People disappear. People are _dying_ , Edward, and worse. We always knew the aliens had some reason for coming here, and we still haven't figured it out, but they're moving on with their goals. You know we can't trust them."

"...disappearing..." Gallant frowned. "What does Advent say?"

"They blame us." Bradford sighed. "I wish we were responsible. If _that_ many people were defecting and joining the Resistance, we could make some _real_ noise for a change."

"So..." Gallant gestured with his empty glass. "Why me?"

"Because you're the one man who can lead us to victory."

"You seem to be doing enough of a job."

"Last time I led a field op from Command..." Bradford's eyes darkened. "I'm not the leader type."

"John, Germany wasn't your fault."

"That's not what the Council said."

"I never meant..." Gallant wavered. "They told me it was a desk job. I didn't mean to-"

"Replace me?" Bradford scoffed. "Water under the bridge, Edward. You were the right man for the job. I wasn't."

"I still lost. Was I really the-"

"You're the right man _now_ , if nothing else." Bradford rose. "I believe in that. Everyone here does too."

Gallant grunted. "John..."

"Come down to the labs when you're ready. Doctor Tygan would like to speak with you." Bradford fetched something from the far end of the room, and Gallant paused to take it in hand.

"Is this-"

"Your cane. The very same one you used to stump around the hologlobe on."

"I see. Thanks, John." Gallant nodded. "Tell the doctor I'll be down shortly."

"If you need help getting up, I can stay-"

" _No._ " Gallant stuck his cane into the carpet very firmly, and he put his feet down too. "I'm _not_ an invalid."

"I know, sir." Bradford nodded. "I'll send someone up when I get to the barracks, just to be safe."

"I'm in no need of-"

"Trust me, sir. She isn't a nursemaid...but it would be a bit of a waste if you fell down the stairs after all the work we put in." The XO grinned, and though Gallant resented the implication, he supposed Bradford's motives were pure.

And maybe...if he _did_ fall, having someone to help him up...Penny had always...

"Whatever. If it makes you feel better." Gallant glared. "Off you go, John."

"Yes, sir." He saluted, still as formal as the old days. "It's damn good to have you back, Commander."

* * *

" _Ranger_." Jane Kelly tested the word, and also her shotgun. "Have to admit, I like the gun."

"It's a nice looking gun," agreed the blonde at her side. Though Jane dressed in navy and aquamarine, this woman wore green: a walking tribute to the home country they both shared. "I wonder if I'll get into the Ranger program."

"Maybe. It'd be nice." Jane raised her gun, tucking it into place as she aimed downrange. "Firing."

"Gotcha." Aileen Quinn pushed her earplugs a little further in. "Go ahead."

 _Boom!_ It was a new sound, nothing at all like the crackling pops of a rifle in action. This was a cannon in Jane's hands, vomiting buckshot in a wild spray. She fondly imagined the screaming of an Advent soldier the first time she brought her weapon to bear. Or an alien itself! She doubted even a muton would survive a point-blank blast from _this_.

The target certainly didn't. It blew apart under the barrage, with plywood fragments spraying like blood. Jane could almost smell it.

She fired three more times. The gun kicked like a mule, and she was grateful for XCOM armor's padding. It was surprisingly light in her hands, too, for its undeniable firepower.

 _Armed with this, I could have saved Irina and the others_.

"You're not a bad shot," Aileen observed, as Jane ejected the spent cartridge and set the gun to the side. "That thing doesn't look like a precision weapon."

"Doesn't have to be if it kills them." Jane rubbed her chin, then reached for the other toy in the Ranger's bag of tricks. "Then there's this."

"What is this?" Aileen wondered. " _The Lord of the Rings_?"

"Do I get to be Eowyn?" Jane flourished the blade, testing its swing. "Feels more like a machete than a proper sword."

"I suppose they wanted to be sure if you ran out of ammunition, you wouldn't be useless." Aileen made a face. "I don't see a load of use in that, I have to admit."

"It's a vanity weapon." Jane made sure to spin it a few more times, then set the sword aside. "Swords are a thousand years out of date."

"Actually, swords were used in combat well into the nineteenth century. They gave cavalrymen blades in the First World War."

"Central!" Jane saluted, and Aileen only a second behind her.

"At ease, soldiers." Bradford returned the gesture, then extended his hand. "May I?"

"Of course, sir." She offered the sword hilt-first, and the XO took it.

"In a firefight, no, a sword isn't that useful. But remember that even the aliens give their mutons bayonets." Bradford flourished the blade, whipping it in lightning-fast circles. He flicked it up between his eyes. "If the chips are down and you're in close range with someone ugly, a sword can save your life. If you know what you're doing with it, it's almost more useful than your shotgun."

"I find that hard to believe." Jane crossed her arms. "What's next? Someone running around with just a shield?"

"Do we have to fast-track him to Captain?" Bradford grinned...and Jane frowned.

"Come again?"

"Captain. Shield." Bradford's smile wavered. "Come on. Don't tell me you don't-"

"I've got nothing," Aileen admitted. "Before our time."

"Before your..." Bradford's eye twitched. He thrust the sword back, scowling. "I ain't _that_ old! And you know _Lord of the Rings_ , but not...not..."

" _That_ is British culture," Jane insisted. "British Isles, not just Britain the country. Advent wants us to forget all about what we were before. It's popular in the Isles' Resistance cells."

"Plus," Aileen added. "War against unstoppable force of evil?"

"Yeah, and Cap is American culture," Bradford replied, as Jane finally reclaimed her blade. "God, you two are useless."

"Says the middle manager."

"Watch your mouth, Kelly." Bradford gave her a warning finger and a dark look. "Just because we did an op together doesn't mean I'm not still your CO."

"Sorry, sir. Me and my big mouth, sir." Jane examined her sword. "I'm sure I'll just have to get used to this, sir, and I'll reclaim the throne of Gondor in no time."

Bradford growled under his breath, but he turned away. Jane snickered, watching him storm off for the bridge.

"What's got you in such a good mood?" Aileen wondered. Jane hesitated.

"Well...we did it, didn't we? We've got the Commander. You know how Bradford talks about him. _That's_ the real Return of the King, right there." Jane grinned. "So, yeah...we took losses. Bad ones. But no more! The Commander's the best there is."

"I hope so." Aileen didn't sound so certain. "We certainly _need_ the best, if we're to win _this_ war."

* * *

"Commander?" That was a woman's voice, coming on the heels of a soft knock. "Commander, are you up, sir?"

"Yeah." He leaned on his cane with one hand, negotiating a shirt with the other. It was slow going, but he'd managed to get his head in place. "Give me half a-"

 _Hiss_.

"Oh, I'm sorry." She hesitated in the doorway. "I didn't realize-"

"Whatever." Gallant got his arm through one sleeve, then switched hands on his cane. He fought the drape over his shoulder for a moment, but finally he stuck his left arm through. "You're my keeper, then?"

"I'm...Central said I was your guide. Just to show you the way down to the labs."

"Did he?" Gallant took the redhead in very intently. "Name?"

"Julie Richardson, sir." She saluted. "I'm new."

"Are you?" Gallant cracked a tired sigh. "Guess I am, too." He rubbed his jaw. " _Damn_ , that hurts."

"Sir?"

"Never mind." Gallant stumped his way over, cane _thumping_ as it made the transition from carpet to metal companionways. "Lead on."

"Sir." She retreated to let him through the door, and he thought he saw something in her eyes as she observed his walk.

"Well, you'd be a pitiable sight too, if you got blown up and shot and pieced back together."

"Sir!" Julie jumped, and that was guilt splayed out over her face. "I'm sorry, sir. I didn't mean-"

"Just lead the damn way."

"Yes, sir." Her cheeks were the same color as her hair. She scurried out in front of him, beckoning. "Down this companionway, sir. Then there's an elevator to the laboratories."

 _Bradford doesn't want me handling stairs._ For a moment, Gallant was extremely tempted to order his guide to take him the long way. He wasn't an invalid. Any idiot could walk _down_ stairs. Up was the problem.

But no. His legs wobbled, and that was a powerful argument that he was not at 100%. Stifling his desires under a wave of annoyance, Gallant let Julie lead him to the elevator, passing crudely-drawn graffiti of XCOM's crest, as well as aliens in various states of death and decomposition.

"Who draws this crap?" Gallant wondered, as Julie opened the elevator doors. She let him enter first.

"Anyone who wants to, sir. It's a way to unwind."

"Can't go hit a bar?"

"We...we have a bar," Julie admitted. "But sometimes you need to do something with your hands. And there aren't many options around here."

"Right." Gallant surreptitiously leaned on the elevator's far wall as the doors closed. "Where is this?"

"Headquarters. It's called the _Avenger_."

"Stupid name." Gallant tapped his cane on the floor, as they started down. "What's your beef with Advent?"

"What _isn't_ my beef with them?" She eyed him. "They killed my aunt. Not to mention what they did to the planet."

"Your aunt?" Gallant had to yield a little. "My condolences."

"Thank you, sir."

"But, you're here now." Gallant took a deep breath. "What's your promotion class? Assault? Heavy?"

"Roles have streamlined since your..." She looked away, and Gallant scoured her with a seething glare.

"Since my time, eh?"

"I didn't mean..." Julie fidgeted. "Well, things are very different. I'm sure Central will get you up to speed as you recover, but to answer your question, I haven't been selected yet. I haven't had a chance to show my aptitude and get scored."

"I see." Gallant breathed out as the elevator came to a halt. "Any preference, if you had the choice?"

"Well, sir..." Julie hesitated. "I like GREMLINs."

"What?" Gallant blinked. "Come again?"

"GREMLINs. You know!" She paused when he glared. "Oh. Oh, right, you...well, they're drones. Little drones, that float around and run errands for you. Like service dogs that fly."

"Service dogs that fly." Gallant stumped for the doors as they hissed open. "Now I've heard everything." He turned left and started off at his fastest limp, chortling under his breath-

"Sir!" Julie hurried out after him. "Commander!"

"What?" He turned to glower. She gently pointed right, and Gallant grunted. "Fine."

The rest of the walk was accomplished in silence. Gallant did his best to keep up with the tall woman's loping stride, but his best was hardly good enough, and she kept pausing to wait up for him. That really just upset him more, but there was nothing he could do about it except carry on, glaring the whole while. Penny had always been a lot more surreptitious about catering to his slowness.

"Here you are, sir." Julie came to a halt as they rounded one last corner, confronting a large silver door that glistened in the light from overhead bulbs. "Doctor Tygan should be just inside. I'll wait out here."

"You do that, then." Gallant approached the door, all but forgetting the redhead existed. He reached out very firmly and knocked twice.

"One moment!" Dead silence followed the shout, and Gallant irritably leaned on his cane. He tapped his foot, trying the _deep, slow breaths_ method.

"Who is it, then?" The doors hissed open, and Gallant had to look up at that same face: the man who'd ripped into his mouth with such wild abandon. "Oh. Hello, Commander."

"Doctor Tygan, I presume?" Gallant offered his hand more out of duty than anything else, and the man took it with a surprisingly firm grip.

"Richard Tygan, indeed." He smiled, and when the handshake let up, he turned for the display of lab equipment set at a semicircular desk nestled in a corner behind him. His tools were laid out in orderly fashion, and every item seemed to have a purpose. Nothing was dirty, and there were no personal effects cluttering up even bare inches of work space.

 _Professional_ , Gallant mused in the back of his mind. _Stick up his ass._

But that was only the _back_ of his mind, because he was too busy staring at the glowing _construct_ in the center of the room, rising from floor to ceiling and interlaced with hexagonal support beams that projected some kind of energy field, holding the wild display of orange light in check.

"Impressive, isn't it?" Tygan asked. "Capable of generating immense power, yet completely harmless to human life."

"If only the same could be said of all the aliens' _gifts_ ," Gallant mumbled. That the... _generator_ was alien in design was undeniable, just from looking at it. The curves of the metal, the _organic_ look to it...

"Even so." Tygan turned back around. "I imagine you have questions."

"Yeah." Gallant leaned on his cane. "Who the hell are you?"

"To the point. Bradford said you were a forward man." Tygan bowed his head...and gave Gallant an excellent look at some _nasty_ scars almost from ear to ear. "I am XCOM's chief science officer. I oversee all our research and development, as well as the..." he hunted for words. "...the _procedure_ you so recently underwent."

"When you sawed half my head off?" Gallant's eye twitched. "I'm still high on painkillers and I feel like my jaw's going to fall out any minute."

"Yes. My apologies, Commander." Tygan shrugged. "It was necessary." He started for his lab equipment, inviting Gallant to follow with a wave. "I'm not sure what Central may have told you, but we found something while removing you from the alien stasis suit."

"In my head?" Gallant blinked.

"In your head." Tygan reached a monitor, and he quickly input a series of commands. Gallant risked a few paces further into the mad scientist's den. "A device, implanted directly into your occipital lobe." He pointed, and Gallant spotted what must be the thing itself, hovering in a glass case on Tygan's desk.

"Why?" Gallant asked. He rubbed the roof of his mouth with his tongue, feeling stitches and burn marks. "Is that why you..."

"Yes. We had to remove it, for multiple reasons." Tygan sighed. "I don't know what it does, Commander. Had I access to the equipment and laboratory space I did during my tenure with Advent, I would already know the precise nature of its-"

"Hold on!" Gallant's glare sharpened. " _Advent_?"

"Yes. It's a long story." Tygan shook his head. "For another time, Commander."

"I want it now."

"Unfortunately, I do not think we have time to swap tales. All that matters at this moment is that Central trusts me. I'm sure you and he can discuss the reasons why. I would be perfectly happy to bring you up to speed once we are in a calmer position." Tygan hit a button on his monitor, and a breakdown of the device appeared. "I'm confident I can discern this chip's true function given time, and, of course, your approval."

"Well, I'm curious," Gallant admitted. "Find out, Doctor. And I will want to talk once you do."

"Of course, sir." Tygan inclined his head again, and those _scars_... "I'll begin work immediately, and notify you when-"

" _Mission Alert!_ " cried a voice from the ceiling. Gallant presumed it must be a PA system rather than fairies prancing in the paneling, but he still jumped as the warning paired with a klaxon, ringing from deeper within the ship. " _Mission Alert! All hands report to General Quarters!_ "

"That would be the bell," Tygan mused. "You should return to bed. You're still-"

"I'm capable enough." Gallant turned for the door. "Where the hell is the bridge?"

"I'm sure Miss Richardson can guide you, and Central would be pleased to see you." Tygan hesitated as Gallant reached the door. "The control panel is-"

"I see it." Gallant hit the big blue button, and the blast doors hissed open. "Damn alien tech."

Tygan chuckled. "Farewell, Commander."

"Farewell." Gallant shut him out then, turning his attention to Julie, pale-faced and shifting from one foot to the other. "Take me to the bridge."

* * *

 **Author's Note 3: Culture Wars**

Gallant kind of has a Captain America thing going on himself, having been in stasis for 20 years.

I'm divided on how much of human culture is being suppressed by the aliens, versus how much they've allowed to linger to keep the planet docile. However, there's only so much purging you can do...a lot of other societies in history tried to quash native cultures, and while some were more successful than others, for the most part it doesn't work out terribly well. There's a wild, vibrant underground for things like _Lord of the Rings_ or the Marvel movies...I might explore more of this side of the universe later, but for the moment, we've got to get the initial groundwork together and get some legs under this story.

Also, doesn't it make sense that _alien invaders_ would do more to suppress the MCU than LotR? Humans seeing the Chitauri and Thanos might provoke some...uncomfortable comparisons.

Until next time, _Vigilo Confido_.


	4. Echelon

_Please remember to favorite and follow!_

* * *

 _"Nothing in life is to be feared, it is only to be understood. Now is the time to understand more, so that we may fear less."  
~Marie Curie_

* * *

 **Chapter Four: Echelon**

" _ALERT!"_ Red lights flashed and a siren blared. Edward Gallant ground to a halt, inhaling sharply as the display showed no signs of ebbing. All eyes in the room turned to him, from the techs working on the computers and the big central holographic display to a few rough-looking characters who had to be soldiers. " _UNAUTHORIZED PRESENCE DETECTED!_ "

"Commander!" From the throng he appeared, Bradford himself, with an eye-roll and a sigh. "Give me a second. _Activate Echelon Protocol!_ "

" _ATTENTION_ ," the PA warned, as the lights flashed blue and the siren turned to a chime. " _SENIOR COMMAND EXCHANGE CONFIRMED_."

"Flashy," Gallant muttered, stumping into the blue light.

"I had wanted that to be a tad more ceremonious," Bradford groused. "Forced my hand, sir."

"Ceremony doesn't win wars." Gallant looked around at the techs and personnel...and how all of them still eyed him. "Good afternoon, then."

"Sir," a few of them chorused. One or two saluted.

The others watched: and they didn't watch their Commander. No. No, they watched a half-bent lanky man limping on a cane, taking deep breaths as he tried not to aggravate his heart too badly.

They watched a cripple claim lordship over them, and Gallant saw questions and uncertainty in their eyes.

"Don't you all have work to do?" Bradford demanded. "We have a mission, soldiers: we can't all celebrate the Commander's return _yet_."

" _Celebrate_ ," Gallant muttered, as the crowd much more energetically saluted and acknowledge his XO's order. "They don't want me here."

"They just haven't seen you in action yet. They'll come around." Bradford redirected his attention by waving to another set of computers. "Like I said, I wanted that to be a bit more ceremonious, but we've got something. Local resistance forces found an Advent shipment moving through the wilderness between a few of their cities."

"And?" Gallant followed the XO, trying not to hobble. _Trying_ to give off an aura of strength. He knew they were still watching, trying to gauge him.

"And in this convoy is something Shen's been after for a while." Bradford moved on far too quickly for Gallant to react to _that_ name being dropped. "A magnetic power converter. Alien tech. It's something that can help us adapt our tech to the alien power elements running through this place. If we can get our hands on it, we'll finally be up and running...and we can give the aliens a real war for a change."

"I see." Gallant let out a breath. "I assume you've picked out a squad?"

"Yes, sir. They're almost to the drop point."

"Good." Gallant looked around. "Where do I stand?"

"Here, sir." Bradford gestured. "It's just like the old days, and I'm right here if you have tactical questions."

"Right." Gallant idly noted that _here, sir_ was up a small flight of stairs, and he promised to murder Bradford someday. Somehow, with heroic effort, he made it up four steps without any overt display of weakness.

"Firebrand, this is Central," Bradford said, touching his earpiece. "You're cleared to deploy."

* * *

"Roger that." Jane Kelly stood, which was a difficult feat in a Skyranger rocking in the wind and twisting under Advent sensor overlaps. She grabbed one of the overhead rings, hanging with one arm while she fished for her shotgun with the other.

"Right." Aileen stood next, nervously looking over her rifle. "We'll get them. We'll get them good."

"Arrogant, aren't you?"

Jane glared at the speaker and third man of their detail, a fellow with scrappy beard and mustache, muscular and proud. His accent placed his heritage in a heartbeat, too.

"Yeah?" Jane demanded. "That's my friend you're scolding, _mate_."

"And what about it?" the Australian demanded. "She's fresh. I see it in her eyes."

"That's no cause to be a dick, Rookie..." Jane glanced at his uniform "...White."

"Yeah, let's see if you still say that when you've had your entire team shot out around you," White snapped. Jane's eye twitched.

"You want to talk about that-"

" _Settle down back there,_ " Firebrand ordered, as the Skyranger pulled to a stop. " _Drop is in ten seconds. Stand by._ "

"Right." Jane nodded to the fourth man. "On your feet, Nunez."

"Okay." Pablo Nunez stood with White, and Jane paused to pat Aileen's arm.

"We're going to be fine," she assured her friend, as the bay doors hissed open. "Just fine."

" _Five seconds_."

Jane checked her gun, watching as the lines snapped out from their housing, falling toward the desert below. It had to be two hundred feet...and then it was abruptly less, as Firebrand finished bringing her pride and joy into position.

"Jane!" Aileen smacked her arm. Jane jumped.

"What?"

"You forgot your-"

" _Go! Go!_ " Firebrand waved from the cockpit. " _Leave tips in your seats!_ "

"Come on!" White was first, and then Nunez. They caught their lines and slid, weapons hanging from shoulder straps, angling for a set of rocks off the main roadway.

"Jane, your sword!"

"Oh, damn it!" Jane turned and angrily grabbed the scabbard from behind her seat. She hurriedly threw the belt around her shoulder, letting Aileen cinch it in place without asking. "This _stupid_ thing-"

" _What's the holdup, Kelly?_ " Firebrand demanded. Jane caught her line in a vise grip.

"Nothing." Then she jumped, trying to ignore White's glare from the ground as she flew out into open air. Aileen was a heartbeat behind her, and while the boys covered their drop, the girls fast-roped down into sand scattered by the backblast from Firebrand's engines.

"Took your time getting ready," White snapped. "Your makeup not look right?"

"I'm gonna put you through a cactus," Jane warned, hefting her shotgun. "You don't have a sword to lug around."

"Settle down," Aileen ordered. She pushed past Jane and White both, peeking out from behind the rocks while the Skyranger rose, shooting off to a standby position ten clicks out. "I make six vehicles. Three cars, two vans."

"Cars are probably contractors. Workers." Nunez settled in beside her, scouring the roadway himself, and Jane figured it was a good idea to take a look. She spent a moment confirming Aileen's count.

"Vans will be Advent soldiers, then," White muttered. "Where are the Resistance fighters?"

"Firebrand?" Jane checked her earpiece. "Do you have a visual on the friendlies?"

" _I see smoke up north. Can't raise them._ " She paused for a moment. " _That's a_ lot _of smoke_."

"Right. While the main Advent unit is tied up dealing with them, we'll strike down here." Jane couldn't bring herself to voice the most likely possibility: that Advent was merely mopping up what was _left_ of the Resistance saboteurs.

"Then what are we waiting on?" Nunez wondered. He rose. "I'm going for the first car. Someone cover me."

* * *

"Squad is moving in," Bradford reported. "Firebrand is confirming multiple KIA up to the north. The Resistance team is either down or in full retreat."

"Lovely." Gallant clutched the rail tightly, watching the little blue dots moving on the holodisplay. "I want Quinn with Nunez, pushing up the left flank. Put White and Kelly on the right."

"Sir." Bradford touched his headset. "Pair off. White, Kelly, push the right side. Nunez, you're with Quinn on the left. Commander's orders."

"I want to know the instant they see anything alive down there." Gallant narrowed his eyes. "I doubt Advent will just let us _have_ the converter."

He was aware of the eyes on him. The bridge personnel made a show of their duties, but any instant they didn't have critical tasks to complete, they turned their gaze his way. Julie Richardson and a few other off-mission soldiers hung in the doorway, arms folded or clasped behind their backs, eyes flicking from display to Commander and back. All souls waited, gauging what kind of leader he was.

If Gallant was to win their respect and loyalty, he had to show them why he deserved it.

"Come on," he muttered, falling back on his experience in the Old War. "Where the hell are they?"

* * *

"Coming up by the first van." Jane paused at the corner, then peeked out. "No hostiles in sight."

"Clear behind." White kept it studiously professional, which Jane was happy with. He scanned with rifle upraised, a finger close to the trigger at all times. "I don't like this quiet."

" _Contact_." That was Aileen's voice. " _Advent forces sighted_."

"Where?" Jane demanded. "On the left?"

"No," White muttered. "In Canada."

"Shut up." Jane hurried around the van, checking the left side for motion. "I don't see any-"

"Get down!" White seized her hand, and in an instant, they both _thumped_ in before the nose of a big Advent truck, lying dormant with her engine riddled with bullet holes. Jane glared.

"What the hell was that about?"

"I see more of them," White snapped, popping back to his feet. He peered around the truck, rifle down. "It looks like a sectoid and a soldier."

"Yeah?" Jane popped up too, and she examined the black-clad soldier with red symbols on his armor, trailing in the wake of... "Oh. So that's what they look like."

"Never seen one?" White wondered, curling his lip. Jane didn't dignify him with a response, instead examining the lanky humanoid figure, pink-skinned and naked save for the bracer on its arm. Jane suspected it was a psionic amplifier, and a backup weapon as well. Only the sectoid's head shape was undeniably inhuman, and its four fingers.

" _We've got an officer and a grunt over here_ ," Aileen reported.

"That has to be most of them." Jane clambered to her feet, and she checked her shotgun one last time. "Permission to engage?"

* * *

" _Permission to engage?_ "

Edward Gallant breathed out. "Do it."

"Sir..." Bradford hesitated. "Sir, we've spotted several pockets of the enemy. It might be best if we concentrate our force to ambush one before-"

"If we can see them, they'll see us trying to move." Gallant glared at the holomap. "Give the order to engage, Central."

"Commander, we can-"

" _Engage the enemy_ ," Gallant snapped. "That's an order, Mister Bradford."

Bradford paused. Gallant glared him down from his high position, gaze sharpening.

Eyes bored into him from across the control room.

"...roger that, sir." Bradford touched his headset. "Menace one-five, this is Central. Permission granted. Wipe them out."

* * *

Jane squeezed the trigger.

 _Blam!_

"Gotcha!" she cried, as buckshot ripped into the Advent soldier on patrol. He tumbled in a spray of orange and yellow, splaying out over a discarded supply crate with a shriek of something about toucans.

Then the sectoid shrieked, and it scuttled low, dodging White's burst of hot lead.

"Damn it! That thing's moving-"

"I've got it!" Jane brought her gun around, but her snap shot missed, and recoil nearly bowled her over. 'This _gun_ -"

 _Bang! Bang!_ That was weapons-fire, erupting from the left-hand side of the road. Jane spared a glance that way, and she yelped as something _exploded_.

"Nunez? Aileen?" she demanded of her comms unit.

"Forget them, worry about this fuck!" White opened fire on the sectoid, who ducked behind a car. It chittered angrily, poking its head up in between bursts to get a good luck at the XCOM operatives.

"Cover me!" Jane darted from position, scrambling over to a tree discarded in the road. Part of the Resistance roadblock, she supposed, as she jumped over branches and limbs.

"Kelly, watch-"

" _Fuck_!" Jane threw herself flat, rolling the last two feet as green energy shot through the air where her head had been. Red bolts came next, and she warily popped up to get a better look. "There's three more of them. Soldiers and an officer-"

"Grenade!" White warned, before hurling it. Jane ducked, wincing as the pineapple detonated and smoke plumed into the sky.

"Come on!" She rose to one knee, raising her shotgun. "Move up!"

 _Boom! Clickity-boom! Clickity-boom!_ With every shot she worked the manual pump, and buckshot ripped up dirt and shattered the glass in car windows. The sectoid screamed, and Jane hoped it had been hit rather than annoyed.

" _Donut!_ " screamed an Advent officer, pointing squarely at her. Jane yelped as one of his subordinates opened fire, and the officer joined in a moment later. The yelp became a scream as she had to dive, covering her head as evil, hateful red projectiles ripped through solid wood.

 _James, Irina, Obsidian..._

"Contact!" White shouted, blasting away. Jane scrambled for her shotgun, dropped entirely without thinking when she dove. One check confirmed her worst fears: the bloody thing was dry.

" _Nunez is hit!_ " Aileen cried over comms. " _I'm trading fire with the last one right now-_ "

"Kelly's pinned down!" White chimed in. "Hang in there!"

"Damn it!" Jane clutched her arm as a splinter flew in, driven by the force of Advent shots. "Fuck! _Fuck!_ " She reached to her belt. "All right, then. If that's how you want to play, let's fucking play!"

* * *

Gallant growled, watching as Kelly hurled her grenade. It clattered up beside the Advent officer, who had only a moment to shout " _Butts!_ " before it exploded in a flash of white light and black smoke, spraying shrapnel in a thirty-foot radius. Gallant had the pleasure of seeing the red-breasted officer tumble head over heels, clutching a variety of wounds.

"Quinn's got one of them pinned down on the left, but Nunez is hit hard," Bradford warned. "He's bleeding out. She can stabilize him on the Skyranger, but unless we want to pull them from the field..."

"Quinn's got to handle that soldier," Gallant snarled. "She's _got_ to take him out. Then she can evacuate Nunez."

"What about Kelly and White?" Bradford pressed. "If she pulls Nunez to treat him, she can't..."

Gallant clutched the rail. "They need to push forward."

"Sir, they're outnumbered two to one-"

"They've _got_ to push forward, Central, and find that goddamn power converter before Advent can pull the bulk of their force back south!" Gallant slammed a fist down. "If we don't get our hands on that thing, we're done for."

"Sir." Bradford didn't look happy, but at least he didn't argue. Gallant took a deep breath.

 _And they wouldn't be outnumbered if I hadn't jumped the gun_ , he told himself. _Nunez wouldn't have been shot. You're going a wonderful job of impressing the command, aren't you?_

"Come on, Jane Kelly," he whispered, far too low for even Bradford to hear. "Come on. Pull it together, now."

* * *

Jane clutched her shotgun close, trying to peek between broken branches, through holes rent by mag-fire. She saw one Advent soldier, keeping her well pinned-down, and the sectoid nursing at least a few injuries, crawling along for the boot of its car with bracer glowing green. Purple energy sparked in its eyes, and Jane winced as she thought of all the monster could do...or make _her_ do.

"I'm pinned down here!" Jane cried. "I need support!"

No response. Jane set her teeth.

"Hey. I said..."

She saw it.

It was tall, and it pulsed and sparked with the same green energy as the sectoid's bracer. It sat abreast the back of the Advent truck, humming and whirring and vibrating in most unpleasant-looking ways.

"C...Central?" Jane touched her comms unit. "Avenger?"

" _This is Central. Report._ "

"I...I see it." Jane stared at the magnetic power converter, sucking in deep breaths. "I see the package. It doesn't...it doesn't look good."

" _Doesn't look good...how?_ "

"Well, it's glowing and shaking and-"

 _Boom!_

"Fuck!" Jane covered her ears as the device cracked with thunder, shooting a blast of energy out on all sides. "It's trying to kill me! It's going to blow!"

" _Roger that_." Bradford sounded awfully calm about this idea. " _I'm getting in touch with Shen. She'll have the fix._ _Secure the area._ "

"We need reinforcements-"

" _Secure the area, Menace one-five! Central out._ "

"Secure the..." Jane trailed off, taking her finger away from the transmit button. "You absolute sod! You-"

" _Donut!_ "

Her world slowed to a crawl. Jane whirled, snapping her shotgun up, and got a flash image of the Advent soldier she'd misplaced, looming at the far end of her tree. There was nothing between them but empty air heated by flying slugs, and the open barrel of his rifle loomed.

But Jane had her shotgun, and she snapped it up without thinking. She fired from the hip, not expecting a hit but hoping to make him flinch-

 _Click_.

She'd never reloaded.

" _Donut!_ " the soldier repeated, and Jane covered her face as he took aim down his gun barrel-

 _Bang!_

Hot yellow blood sprayed her, and Jane yelped when an Advent corpse spitting hateful words in the aliens' broken language crashed onto the road. The mag rifle flew away, and a moment later so did the soldier's helmet, ripped off by the fall. Jane stared at the body.

"You're welcome, Kelly."

"W...White?" She swallowed, taking in the Australian as he dropped into cover right overtop of the Adventer's body. "You..."

" _Thank you_ will suffice." Then he rose, firing wildly. "Someone has to get to the converter. There's one soldier and the sectoid out there."

"Right!" Jane scrambled to reload, sliding cartridges of buckshot into place. "If you can keep the soldier's head down, I can...I can flank him." It took a breath's worth of courage, but Jane was willing to try.

"I can manage that." White rose, then ducked incoming fire. "Try not to get killed!"

"You too!" Jane pushed up onto her feet, wiping her sweaty hands on bloody trousers. "Say when."

"When!" White let loose a torrent of heavy fire that drove the Advent soldier down into cover. Jane clutched her gun.

Then she dove into the open.

"Shit, shit, _shit!_ " she cried, bending double as the sectoid opened fire. Evil green blasts seared over and around her, and she screamed as she sensed one coming. Only a last-second dive and a shoulder roll kept her from getting a hole burned through her chest. Her heart thundered, and every shaking step seemed likely to be her last.

" _Call a taxi!_ " screamed the soldier, as she put a food on the hood of his car. He rose to shoot, but she was faster, vaulting over the vehicle and firing two blasts from the hip in passing.

She must have hit, and not just a glance to the temple. No, the soldier's head literally _exploded_ , spraying bone and brains and yellow Meld-infused goo everywhere.

Jane landed on one knee, ducking low as more energy fire came in. Her hand went in what was left of the soldier's ear, reduced to a vague paste on the road, but she barely noticed. Instead Jane scrambled to her feet, ignoring her aching legs and pounding heart, knowing that if she stopped now, she wouldn't move again.

"I'm going for the converter!" She fired on the move, forcing the sectoid down even though her shot was wider than the English Channel. "White!"

"On him!" The Aussie leaned out from behind the tree, firing as the alien shifted positions, trying to shield itself from Jane's fast-moving fire. She heard it scream, but it sounded more annoyed than agonized.

Ten meters. Jane slung her shotgun over her shoulder the instant the magazine emptied, reaching for her datapad.

Five meters. Gunfire ripped through the air around her, and she heard the sectoid's psi-powers activating. If it took White over, that was it.

Two meters. Jane bent her knees on the next step, and she jumped, her boots landing hard on the flatbed's back. She skidded over alloy plating that vibrated of its own accord, barely checking her momentum before she drove her shoulder into the unstable converter.

"Central, I'm at the thing!" She crouched, hunting for a data connection. She winced as it vomited more green energy, hot and acrid and smelling of dead fish and burned bacon. "Tell me you have a goddamn bloody fix-"

" _Menace, we're uploading the fix now._ " Bradford might have sounded relieved. Jane couldn't tell. " _Connect and upload this to stabilize the converter_."

"Right, right." Jane let out a relieved sigh that was almost a moan when she saw the active data connection icon in her pad's upper-right corner. She quickly found the necessary program, and in an instant and five taps of her finger, she set up the upload. "Central, it's-"

 _Thump_.

It wasn't the sectoid. That footstep was too heavy, just like the breathing. It wasn't White, because she heard him still shooting. Jane whirled, dropping her pad as she came face-to-face with-

"Oh, shit," Jane whispered, as the Advent officer loomed, clutching bleeding shrapnel wounds but very much alive. "One grenade..."

His gun came up. So did hers, but it was empty, just like before. That was fine. Jane threw it in the officer's face, which made him stagger. He snarled in that awful, ugly language Jane hated so much, but then he was back on the attack, snapping his rifle into place-

 _Clang!_ Jane's sword came out in a flash, and she knocked the gun right out of the officer's hands. Before he could reach for his sidearm or his grenade, Jane flipped the blade, and the _thing_ could only shriek as three feet of steel drove between its ribs.

"That," she snarled at two inches' distance, "was for _Irina_."

She withdrew her blade, and the body dropped. It tumbled off the flatbed's back, and Jane watched it with satisfaction every inch of the way.

"Sectoid's down." White appeared, poking the officer's corpse with his toes as it twitched out its last breaths. "Quinn is back on the Skyranger with Nunez. He'll be fine."

"Good." Jane flicked her sword to shake off the alien blood, then returned it to its scabbard with a shaking hand. "That's good."

" _Menace one-five, this is Central._ " Bradford _definitely_ sounded relieved now. " _We're not picking up any more life signs in the immediate area. Grab what you can and make sure you get that converter loaded up, then extract as soon as possible. The rest of the escort will be back within the hour, and you don't want to tangle with mutons."_

"Roger that, sir." Jane turned to the converter. "Come on. Let's get this packed down for transport."

* * *

 **Author's Note 4: FIGHT**

If you take some liberties regarding animations, the combat in this chapter can be boiled down to actual in-game actions and logic. Enjoy it: I won't be doing this very often, for the sake of story. For the most part, I'll be treating in-game abilities and equipment with the same _Broad Strokes_ mentality I use for the cutscenes: overall, I'm going to try and keep things relatively appropriate for the point in the game the story has reached. However, if I think it makes a scene flow better, be more dramatic, or just plain feel more kickass than otherwise, I will quite happily bend the game's rules, the soldiers' ability progression, and even what gear should be available when.

So if Jane whips out a melee kill streak that should only be possible through Reaper, or a team sniper unloads what is clearly Kill Zone...you know what's up. 

Until next time, _Vigilo Confido_.


	5. Stumbles

_Please remember to favorite and follow!_

* * *

 _"The greatest healing therapy is friendship and love."_

 _~Hubert Humphrey_

* * *

 **Chapter Five: Stumbles**

"Commander-"

Edward Gallant turned his shoulder, cane hammering the companionway floor. He passed a rookie whose armor proclaimed him "Cameron Rogers", and something in the man's eyes gave the game away.

Something like disdain.

"Sir-"

"Don't you have a fucking job to do, Central?" Gallant hesitated when he came to the next fork in the path, and he regretted exfiltrating from the command center before Julie Richardson had a chance to reattach herself to him. Still, Gallant felt confident turning right would get him where he needed to go, so that's what he did.

"Commander-"

"If you could go and _do_ it, that would be nice." Gallant thundered on to the next corner, teeth gritted as he thought of the firefight.

"Damn it, Edward, stop moving!" Bradford reached out and caught his shoulder the instant Cameron Rogers was out of sight.

"Hands off, Central!" Gallant spun, and though he wavered on his feet, he pushed the end of his cane into Bradford's chest. "What's your fucking problem?"

"Sir...you've been in stasis for years...things have changed."

"Yeah." Gallant's eye twitched. "And I just made a goddamn fool of myself _in front of the entire organization_. What was it I always used to complain about, with Van Doorn and the other clowns who tried muscling their influence into my project?"

"Sir-"

"You picked the wrong man, John." Again Gallant turned, wishing his cane drove into an alien throat rather than onto the alloy floor. The ringing, while pleasant, wasn't as satisfying as a _squelch_ and a scream.

"Tactics are different, and Advent and the aliens work different now. You're getting used to the changes."

"Why?" Gallant scoffed, but he didn't stop, forcing bedraggled Bradford to hurry along after him. It gave the Commander a bit of perverse pleasure to, in his crippled state, be the one setting the pace for someone who was supposedly a _real_ soldier. "You seem to know how this all works well enough. You've been leading the organization for the twenty years I was locked away. Why can't you just keep it up, eh?"

"Because I'm not half the commander you are. It'll be Germany all over again, sooner or later."

"That's about what today looked like." Gallant discovered an elevator, and he hit the button with aplomb. "You picked the wrong man, John."

Quiet hung in the musty companionway. Gallant glared, while Bradford put his hands on his hips, shifting back and forth as he visibly hunted for words.

"I can't believe that," he finally insisted. "I can't. If that's true, we've already lost."

"I seem to be doing a bang-up job of making sure we do."

"Do you remember what you always told the staff, every time the aliens wrecked one of our teams?" Bradford asked quietly. "Every time Malin Larsen got her squad shot out from around her for the umpteenth time, crawling back into Big Sky with gritted teeth and a middle finger for the aliens trying to take her down too?"

Gallant watched the elevator open, but he made no move to enter. " _Everyone stumbles. Everyone falls._ "

"And the rest?" Bradford asked. " _The great men and women of history are the ones who get back up again._ "

"Lives hang in the balance. It's a miracle no one died today."

"But no one _did_ ," Bradford insisted. "And that's on you just as much as everything else. You put faith in Kelly and White, and they didn't let you down. Maybe they don't see it that way, not yet, but in the end people will remember that it was so hard on them only because you made sure Nunez was going to survive."

Gallant let out a long breath. "Damn it, Air Force. You just can't let me wallow, can you?"

"Never been my strong suit." Bradford leaned past Gallant, and he tapped one of the buttons on the elevator control panel. "Get in."

"Where are you sending me?" Gallant did follow orders though, hurrying to lean on the far corner.

"You need to see Shen. After recovering the converter-"

"Right." Gallant shivered. "Shen..."

"I'll be on the bridge," Bradford advised, as the doors began to slide shut. "First right, then first left."

"Right, left."

 _Thump!_ The elevator began to descend, and Gallant leaned on his cane to keep his footing.

Watching that firefight...knowing those soldiers were only there because their commander had made a mistake...

Gallant eyed his reflection in the alien alloys of the far wall. He eyed the cane, eyed the bend in his leg and the half-cocked posture that marked him. He eyed the tired eyes and scraggly hair, and when he took an experimental step, he eyed the limp, like every step put his right foot into an invisible pothole.

"How the mighty have fallen." His lip curled as he thought of what had once been: the broad-shouldered, straight-standing soldier whom everyone had talked about as if he were the next big thing in the US Army. The next Knox, or Meade, or Grant or Pershing or Patton.

The one they'd watched and whispered about behind his back, after the ambush and his crippling. The one they'd bundled off in the dead of night to Groom Lake for a meeting with the Shadow Man.

"Desk job. Stupid, crap-ass desk job to get the useless fuck out of the way." Gallant chuckled, but he wasn't by any means cheerful. "If only I'd known."

The elevator came to a halt. Gallant inhaled, trying to draw himself up like the old Captain Gallant had done, every time he'd gone marching out to brief his command.

"Shen," he muttered, with a tingle of raw anticipation. " _Shen_."

* * *

" _Specialist?_ " Aileen Quinn didn't seem entirely certain whether to jump for joy or find someone to slap with her scoring pad. "What the hell does a _Specialist_ do?"

"GREMLINs," Jane Kelly pointed out, from her opposite seat in the bar booth. She took a hefty swig from her bottle. "Medical and hacking stuff."

"This is because I treated Nunez," Aileen swore. "They're sticking me in as a medic because _one time_ , I took care of a wounded fellow."

"How is he?" Jane asked. She shuddered, thinking of how bloody he'd been on the trip back to base. "He didn't look good."

"Prognosis is good," Aileen assured her. "And he got scored. He isn't awake to look yet, but..."

"You didn't." Jane shook her head. "You did _not_ peek."

"Sharpshooter. Doesn't make a lot of sense to me: he missed half his shots. What about that screams ' _this man is a crack shot_ ' to you?"

"Maybe it's the other way around," Jane mused. "Maybe they want to give him more range training because of how badly he _needs_ it."

"Then there's you." Aileen examined Jane critically. "Corporal Kelly, huh?"

"Rolls off the tongue, doesn't it?" Jane took another long drink. "Only had to nearly die a couple times to get there."

"I guess I'm here to patch you up while you work on your next promotion, then."

Jane raised her bottle. "That's what a girlfriend is for." She hesitated. "Did you...did you get a look at him?"

"Who?" Aileen tilted her head. "The Commander?"

"Yeah." Jane's eye twitched. "He got us split up, and White and I..."

"Yeah." Aileen didn't look very happy. "Central said Gallant was the best."

"Central was wrong. _I_ could have done better."

"As I recall, _you're_ the one who started shooting," Aileen pointed out. "We made mistakes, too."

"But I couldn't see the whole picture. I did what was best on my side, not knowing what it looked like on yours." Jane sighed. "I thought you and Nunez would wrap up over there and come in to flank the sectoid if he gave me and White trouble."

"I'm sorry-"

"Don't be sorry! It's not your fault you weren't in a position to help." Jane pushed her drink from one hand to the other. "We lost people getting Gallant out of Paris."

"We did." Aileen glanced to the memorial up at the far end of the bar. "I knew Peter, a little."

"I wish I did." Jane took off her cap, throwing it on the tabletop without looking. "I was only here for a day or two after escaping Ireland. Then Central and I were off to France. I think I saw Ramirez in passing...she might have shown me to my quarters." Jane took another drink. "They're gone. Bam. Just like that."

"Ramirez had kids," Aileen murmured. "Two of them, in a haven out in Mexico. They're with their father."

"Do they know?"

"I imagine Central sent a message personally." The Specialist went for her own drink then, and silence fell.

"We're damn lucky," Jane finally murmured. " _Damn_ lucky. Nunez is alive, I'm alive, you're alive and White too...no one died."

"Maybe the Commander really is-"

"You're the one who saved Nunez. White and I were the ones who took down the sectoid and the Advent force on the right." Jane shook her head. "He didn't do a damn thing that mattered, except get us into more trouble."

Aileen sighed. "Maybe you're right. Still-"

 _Beep! Beep!_ That was the tell-tale tone of her communicator, and the Specialist sighed as she reached up to tap the device in her ear.

"Quinn." She frowned, listening. "All right. Sure, I'm on my way. No, it's not a bother."

"Friend?" Jane asked, as Aileen threw back the rest of her drink.

"Richardson. She wants to see my GREMLIN. Wants to know what I'm going to name it." Aileen threw her bottle, and it soared across the room and straight into the refuse bin. "Nothing but net!"

"You go, girl!" Jane chuckled. "You've got a throwing arm. Practice with grenades much?"

"Sometimes a girl needs to make something go _boom_ ," Aileen confirmed, with a little grin. "I don't mean to desert you, Jane: you're welcome to come along if you'd like."

"I'd rather drink," she confessed. "Go on! Leave me. I'll just suffer alone."

"With an attitude like that, you'd name your GREMLIN _'Whiskey'_."

"Well, I do have a sword to name." Jane rolled her eyes. "And _Glamdring_ is already taken."

"But you're the only Ranger-"

"Trust me, I asked. I can't do it." She waved, insistently. "Go on, Aileen. I'm fine. I'll see you tomorrow for range drill."

"Don't die," the other Irishwoman encouraged, before patting Jane on the shoulder and starting off. Jane chuckled...

...but her mirth rapidly died off.

"Don't die." She turned those two words over, tasting them. They stung and slithered, charred like ash and soot as they worked their way over her tongue.

Jane Kelly rose, reclaiming her cap and taking her empty bottle.

Obsidian wasn't on the memorial. Jane tried to put a picture of him over one of the yet-empty spaces, but her imagination wasn't quite up to the task. He would have been glowering, at least: he always glowered. Glowered and loomed...until he saw a stray cat in the boondocks, away from Advent's ban on domestic animals. Obsidian had _loved_ cats, and he was _so_ gentle with them...

James would have been smiling. James was a smiler to begin with, who took little outside of the aliens seriously. Jane had enjoyed needling him, because he always clapped right back. Nothing dampened his spirits, not low supplies or battle injuries or even running from viper trackers. James believed in the power of his own heart and mind over his fear and misery, and Jane missed that self-certain joy a little more every day.

There wouldn't have even been a picture of Irina. She tried her best to avoid them: the paranoid Russian was convinced that pictures would make her easier to track down. If there had been anything, it would have been her with a scarf wrapped around her face, doing her best to shield her eyes with her long golden hair.

Jane threw her bottle aside, and it landed on the floor two feet left of the bin. She didn't care enough to retrieve it.

 _Another_ , she thought, turning to the bar and the rookie on tending duty. She raised her hand, seeking his attention through the little throng of technicians and engineering personnel.

And paused. Jane frowned in silence, hand half-raised, as she took in the lone figure at the far corner of the bar, tucked away and hiding.

She was walking before she was certain of why.

"So, it's you." White drained his shot, slamming the glass down hard. "Fighting Irish herself."

"Celebrating?" Jane asked. She glanced to the pip on his uniform. "I see you got scored."

"Big guns, big booms." White scoffed. "I don't know any more about grenades than you, but that's what Central saw when he looked at me."

"Guess we've got one of everything. Quinn's a Specialist."

"Bloody lovely." He glared at Jane out of the corner of his eye. "You got a problem, doll?"

Jane hesitated. "I..."

"Spit it out. I ain't got all day." He waved for the bartender's attention. "Oi. I'll take-"

"Let me!" Jane paused as both White and the bartender glanced her way. "Well, you did kind of save my arse in the firefight. Figure I owe you one."

"Well..." White blinked, but then he covered it with a shrug. "Ain't never turned down a free one."

"Great. My tab. I'll take another as well." Jane gently eased to a seat at the stool next to his. "Do you mind?"

"Doubt you'd care one way or the other." He waited until he had his next amber shot, and swirled it around for a moment. "Nunez is damn lucky to be alive."

"I know it." Jane accepted her bottle, and she took a little sip. "We're all damn lucky."

"I didn't think we'd all make it back," the Grenadier growled. "Last time I went up against those bastards..."

"Yeah?" Jane tapped her fingers on the bar. "You've lost someone?"

"What's your problem? Curious?" White scoffed. "You wouldn't understand."

"I've had two teams shot out from around me." Jane took another drink. "We called ourselves the Warriors, back in Ireland. We weren't XCOM-affiliated...just a little local cell pissing off aliens the old-fashioned way."

"Yeah. That's about me, too." White nodded to the memorial. "You ain't gonna see my friends up there."

"Mine either. We just took a job to help, that's all." Jane chuckled, but it wasn't mirthful. "We grabbed the alien X4 charges. That's what we used in Paris, to take out one of the Advent patrols. Big boom." She mimed, nearly losing her grip on the cool, slick bottle in the process. "Got everyone killed in the process...except for me."

"I'm sorry." He sounded honest. Jane sighed.

"Yeah. I still see them, sometimes. Can't stop thinking about them."

"That's me as well," White muttered. "I hear the screaming and the mag-fire."

"Yeah."

They sat in silence for a moment. Jane drank, and the Grenadier contemplated the bar, eyes hard.

"We haven't formally met," Jane finally said. She thrust out her free hand. "Jane Kelly."

"David White." He took it, and she approved of how he didn't show any mercy in his grip just because she was a woman. "You ever fought an Advent MEC?"

"No."

"Well, there was this one time in shanty-town south of Darwin..."

* * *

 _ENGINEERING_ , the door proclaimed in loud print. Gallant hit the access button under the orange stripe bisecting the alien-designed portal, and it opened with a hiss of pneumatics.

"And I thought the old base was techy." His cane came down on harsher metal floors, and Gallant scowled when he saw latticework stairs, like overlarge mesh. He thanked God and whoever had built the damn thing for the thoughtful railing on his left, and held his cane at waist-level as he started the climb.

"-with some of the parts from your old engine," a woman muttered, from up the stairs. Gallant frowned. She sounded familiar, yet not: like someone he'd met in a dream, long ago. "Should fix the stabilization issue." Something _banged_. "Come on, Rover! It'll work."

"Rover?" Gallant wondered, as he made it up the last step. He had about a second to take in scattered toolboxes, hammers and wrenches scattered over a desk and a curling semicircular worktable nestled in the far corner. His eyes flicked to camera feeds, either for security or monitoring, and then some kind of automated assembly device working on a robotic drone.

Then, of course, his eyes widened when _another_ such drone shot from the desk and straight at him, buzzing and humming like a wasp the size of a pug.

"Commander!" warned the woman behind the desk, a wrench in hand.

"What the-" Gallant ducked, and the... _thing_ rocketed over his shoulder, soaring out over the open space by the door. He stared as it did a full orbit of the room, finally coming down to settle behind the woman's shoulder.

"What the _hell_ is that?" Gallant finally demanded.

"This? This is Rov-R," the woman explained. "Sorry about that. Getting our tech to talk to theirs is harder than you'd think."

"Okay." Gallant drove his cane down, trying not to glare apprehensively at the little dive-bomber. Instead, he took in the woman: short, with Asian features and soft eyes, framed with short-cut brown hair. Her outfit was the practical style of a mechanic, all vest and gloves and pants festooned with pockets. Gallant spent a moment examining the odd fist-sigil shield tattooed on her right bicep. "Bradford said Shen was down here."

"Oh...you were probably expecting my father. In all that's happened, I'm guessing Central didn't tell you yet." She stood to attention. "Lily Shen: Chief Engineer, at your service, sir. We met once-"

"We did." Gallant frowned. "You were...your father brought you to the base as things went bad. Said it was the safest place."

"When the aliens attacked, Bradford got the two of us out. He tried to save you, too."

"Is your father here?" Gallant didn't want to be rude, but...

"He's..." Shen's eyes darkened. "He's gone."

"Oh. I'm..." Gallant battled another seething, _searing_ wave of loss as it rippled out through his veins. "I'm sorry."

"Me too." Shen managed a smile. "Dad gave everything he had to get us this far. This entire ship is his life's work."

"Ship?" Gallant wondered. Shen nodded.

"I know he would have loved to show you around the place himself," she assured him. "Dad used to talk about you a lot."

"About how I lost the war?"

"No!" Shen shook her head. "He was in awe of you. He said you were the only one who could win this for us, if you only had the chance."

"Yeah...well, I'm not holding my breath." Gallant did take one, though, and straightened his spine. "Very well, Chief. What do you have for me?"

"The converter's installed. The _Avenger_ is up and running." She gestured to her little assembly devices. "I know it may not look it, but from here I can fabricate virtually anything you and Tygan come up with. I've already started working on medical supplies and flash-bang grenades for our soldiers. If Tygan and his staff can get some of their new projects together, I have a few prototypes I can present soon."

"Good. I think we're going to need all the unfair advantages we can get."

"Oh, I specialize in the unfair." Shen smiled. "It was an honor to finally-"

 _Bang!_

"Whoa!" Gallant stumbled as Rov-R let out an electric pulse, twitching and hanging in the air.

"What the..." Shen stared. "Rov-R?"

"What the hell is it doing?" Gallant demanded, as the robot flew over to Shen's computers. It twitched and it beeped, still crackling with electricity, and-

"He's...he's accessing the data..." Shen took a half-step that way as her monitors all flashed with unusual signals. Gallant raised his cane.

"Here. Knock it down-"

"Wait!"

" _Shen, getting some unusual interference up here._ " That was Bradford, and Gallant could only faintly hear his voice from the engineer's earpiece." _Seems to be hitting us across the board._ "

"Working on it," Shen pledged, before taking a step toward Rov-R. She reached out, as if comforting a spooked horse.

"What's it _doing_? What's going on?" Gallant eyed flickering lights and crackling electricity. "Shen?"

"Someone triggered his remote uplink," she muttered. "But that's not possible. _No one_ knows these systems."

"Just stop it!" Gallant ordered. "I don't like this-"

Shen touched the drone.

" _Shen!_ " Bradford cried, as Rov-R spasmed in the air. " _Shen, power levels just spiked!_ "

The lights flickered. Shen yelped as they went out abruptly, plunging Engineering into darkness.

Darkness except for the glow of Shen's four monitors, and that symbol on all of them. Even as Gallant and Shen watched, it turned from red...to blue.

 _Bellator en Machina_ , read the shield sigil on screen.

"That's not...that's not..." Gallant choked, clutching his heart and thankful for his medication. "That can't be!"

"... _Dad_?" Shen demanded.

* * *

 **Author's Note 5: Timelines and Outlines**

The odds of getting the Lost Towers transmission before even hearing about the Blacksite are somewhere between zero and zero. This wasn't the original outline for this scene, but I realized I needed a good "ending wham line" and the transmission actually worked really well. You can rest assured I adjusted a lot of my mission orders after this.

Which brings us to the point of _mission orders_ : since I'm transcribing a game heavy on missions, my outline looks a little different than most of my writing projects. Being the author of close to 20 books, I have the art of outlines down to a rambling, personalized science...but this presented a new challenge. Instead of merely chapter-by-chapter breakdowns and a character ledger, I wrote down every single mission type in XCOM 2, then decided how many of which I wanted to include, why, where they should go, what additional factors take place(Ruler aliens, Chosen appearances, etc) and assembled what is for all intents and purposes a _second_ full outline on that alone.

We won't be running Lost Towers immediately, though. There's something else that I want to take care of first, in the name of expanding the steady cast and providing a little time for Shen and Tygan to do some gear development. We'll talk about research and engineering next time.

Until then, _Vigilo Confido_.


	6. Ghosts

_Please remember to favorite and follow!_

* * *

 _"The fear of death follows from the fear of life. A man who lives fully is prepared to die at any time."_

 _~Mark Twain_

* * *

 **Chapter Six: Ghosts**

"Commander...I'm too old to start believing in ghosts." Bradford paused for a swig from his hip flask, which was an idea Gallant thought quite brilliant. He fondly wished for one of his own, but his desk only had a computer terminal and pen and paper someone had insultingly provided despite its obsolescence. He wasn't sure whether to blame Tygan or Julie Richardson, but _someone_ was being cheeky about his stay in stasis.

"You and me both." Gallant rubbed his chin. "Someone had to access Rov-R remotely."

"Agreed." Lily Shen sat in comparison to Bradford's martial lean in the office doorway, and her eyes were wide and intent. "I was able to pull a set of coordinates from the transmission...I think. It's all encrypted, but it bears the hallmark of proper coordinate encoding."

"Advent's setting a trap," Gallant guessed immediately. "We send a team there, they'll be shot up or taken."

"Sir...it's not Advent style encryption." Shen swallowed. "Commander, it's XCOM standard. From the old days."

"It could still be a trap," Gallant warned. "You said your father's dead."

"He is." Shen ran a hand through her hair. "I don't know how it's possible, but someone is using all his old clearance codes...accessing systems he helped build."

"If they could access Rov-R, there's no telling what else they may be able to do." Bradford's eye twitched. "Sir, I don't like it, but I strongly suggest we make it a priority to investigate that signal."

Gallant sighed. "Investigate how?"

"I'll start by decrypting the transmission," Shen said. "I'll bring Tygan in, and we'll try to crack the code whoever this is put on their coordinates. Once we figure that out, we'll be in touch about how to get there."

"In the meantime," Gallant ordered, "I want you to shore up the base's electronic defenses. Some kind of firewall, in case whoever this is comes back for another round."

"Yes, sir." Shen saluted. "In that case, let me get back down to the lab and collect my files. I'll take them over to the Labs as soon as-"

 _Beep! Beep!_

"Oh, that's me." Gallant reached up to his communicator, wasting a moment cursing as he tried to locate the button on its side. "Gallant. Speak."

" _Commander_ ," said Richard Tygan. " _I've completed work on the implanted chip. I'm sure you'll find the results intriguing_."

"When it rains, it pours." Gallant groaned, pushing himself up with his desk as support. "I'm on my way."

* * *

 _VOLUNTEERS WANTED!_

"For what?" Julie Richardson wondered, taking in the poster spread out in the Barracks. She glanced around her idling colleagues, all preoccupied with drinks and lunch and magazines of less than classy nature, before chancing a more detailed look at the poster.

"Volunteers wanted..." She traced over the purple backlighting, and the searing tendrils of light shooting across the paper. "For...they're not _serious!_ "

"Are you really _looking_ at that?"

"Rogers!" Julie jumped. "What? Why?"

"That poster's been up since last night," Cameron Rogers grunted. "I hear they've almost got the facility up and running, even after all the accidents."

"It...I hadn't heard that." Julie blinked slowly. "Do you think they still have room?"

"Room?" Rogers regarded her like she'd lost her mind. "Damn it, woman: they have nothing _but_ room."

"I would have thought they'd have to turn people away."

"Then why don't _you_ volunteer?" Rogers demanded, a little testily. "I'm not keen on getting my head blown up in the name of turning me into an Elder or a step down!"

"Yeah, but...psi-op..." Julie glanced back at the poster. "Can you imagine having the Gift? Just like a sectoid, or a priest?"

"Yeah. And I don't like it." Rogers stuck his hands on his hips. "Come on. You aren't stupid enough to wander down to the psi-labs, are you? You know what happens to people who tap into the Gift. Aliens take 'em."

"I volunteered to fight. If I die..." Julie swallowed, not being enthusiastic to try. "Well, that's the nature of things. I volunteered once. What's a second time?"

"They aren't going to kill you," Rogers snapped. He leaned in conspiratorially. "They'll make sure you live, Richardson. They'll mind-control you and double-pace-march you to the nearest black site."

"I've heard the rumors." Julie took a breath. "It's crap. It's all crap. Black sites where they mutilate and maim people? Cut me a break."

"They'll vivisect you," Rogers warned. "They'll take your brain and put it on life support. You won't be able to do anything, not even scream, as they turn your body to food for the baby berserkers. Or maybe a chryssalid breeding carcass."

"I... _chryssalids_..." Julie shivered. "I don't like _them_."

"You belong to them if Advent gets you," Roger insisted. "You leave well enough alone, and maybe they'll just kill you quickly. Besides! You ever wonder why the aliens are so bad?" He slapped the poster. "Fucking mind powers. That's it right there. Go down the road they did, you'll _become_ just what they did."

"How do you know?" Julie eyed the poster, tingling. "It sounds amazing to me." She inhaled. "I'm going to volunteer."

"You're fucking serious?" Rogers growled when Julie, a bit defiant, nodded. "Whatever. Your funeral, idiot."

"I'm not an - hey!" Julie gaped when Rogers just turned and stormed off, muttering under his breath. "Rude!"

 _VOLUNTEERS WANTED!_ And that purple background...the glow of power...

"I'm going to do it," Julie muttered. She turned for the door, making sure to _almost_ bump Cameron Rogers in passing. He broke from his conversation with Rookie Liang to give her an annoyed look, and that made everything worth it.

"I'm going to _do it_ ," Julie repeated, as soon as she was out the Barracks door. She hurried for the elevator, thinking of mind control and opening psi-rifts and...and...

"I should do it," she whispered, thinking of alien torture facilities and surgeons heedless of her screams. Her brain on life support? Sounded like something out of a B movie from sixty years ago, but maybe...what if it _was_ true? The Elders did have an obsession with the Gift...

"Should I do it?" Julie wondered, as she entered the elevator. She examined the buttons. There was the psi-lab, brand-spanking new and ready for use...

What if it hurt to unlock her Gift? She'd heard rumors about other Resistance cells that had tried it...it supposedly took weeks, and what if it was painful and she got lonely in the psi lab and...and...

"I should," she decided. "For the war effort? Especially if no one else will, _I_ should. I should go and...and..."

 _Chryssalids_...

"I should go to the range. Target practice." Julie rubbed her sweaty palms on her pants. "Just a bit of target practice. I'll check the labs after, right? They'll still be there."

* * *

Gallant elected not to mention to the laboratory's chief inhabitant how long it had taken him to find the door. Instead, he spent a moment briefly concocting a reason for delay that had nothing to do with bathrooms. He could at least be original when he lied, right?

 _Hiss_. The door opened when he touched it, and Gallant supposed there was some sort of fingerprint ID at work. He set his cane and legs to work, and three limbs came down in an alternating sequence: _thump, thump, Thump!_

"Unbelievable." There was Tygan, leaning over his desk and examining that alien chip, hovering in its glass case like last time. Gallant watched the scientist as he absently rubbed at the back of his head, and those wild scars. "So much of my own research, based on this simple design...if only I had known..."

"Doctor." Gallant paired that with a cough into his elbow. Tygan paused.

"Ah, Commander!" He rose, managing a smile. "Excellent. There's been some...progress."

"Progress, Doctor Tygan?" Gallant leaned on his cane with both hands. "You said you'd completed your analysis."

"And I have indeed. I've managed to break down several key components of the 'chip' implanted in your skull." He turned to his monitor, and Gallant watched as he pulled up what looked like an X-ray.

"Is that me?" he wondered. Tygan nodded.

"My analysis reveals that the chip's primary function seems to be that of a conduit, passing vast amounts of data directly to your cerebral cortex."

"Data?" Gallant blinked. "What data?"

"I can't say for certain. With the primary connection severed, much of it is lost." Before Gallant even finished swearing, Tygan had a hand up. "However, some fragments do remain. Ghosts, if you will." He pressed a few buttons. "Observe."

Gallant did, and a moment later, images flashed over the monitor. Images distinct and yet clouded, familiar and intimate and yet...alien.

"That's..." He coughed. "That's Malin Larsen."

"But not the woman herself," Tygan cautioned, as Gallant watched what looked like footage of XCOM's greatest soldier fighting against a swarm of mutons. There were so many other faces he could _almost_ name...like men he'd met in a dream...

"That's an outsider." Gallant tilted his head. "Doctor, what the hell is this? False memories?"

"Tactical combat simulations." The egghead seemed to relish those three words. "War games. The sheer volume of encounters you were processing was astounding. It..." He shook his head, taking Gallant in very differently from before.

"Yes?" The Commander glared. "What's the point?"

"It's...remarkable that you survived as long as you did," Tygan finally said. "Information overload should have killed you years ago."

"So now I'm twice a dead man walking." Gallant stared at the feed, and he reached up to feel his chest. His heart burned. "Do you have some water?"

"Commander?"

"Water, damn it. Get me water." He appropriated the first chair he saw, and sat without asking. While Tygan hesitantly hurried to a little sink, Gallant produced the bottle Bradford had given him.

"You have a heart condition," Tygan observed, reading the bottle's label while he offered a small glass. "I imagine it was brought about by your...injuries...during your active tour in Iraq."

Gallant took it, popping the pills into his mouth.

"Gee, aren't you observant?" Gallant coughed, thumping his chest gently while the medicine went down. "You read my file, Tygan?" He snorted when the scientist nodded. "Hopefully you can do something if I have a heart _attack_."

"Commander...while this may seem... _disconcerting_..."

"That's one way to put it," Gallant snapped, acid in his tone. "How the hell do I know which of my war memories are even real anymore? They had me in a box, making me hallucinate...God only knows what they were doing to me." He shuddered. "Fuck those bastards. I'm gonna ram a lamppost up every Elder's ass. _The same lamppost_."

"As I said, though this may seem disconcerting, there is some good news." Grudgingly, Gallant spared Tygan his glowering attention, and the scientist returned to his computer. "This _chip_ bears a striking resemblance to a medical implant I briefly assisted in developing during my time working at the gene therapy clinic in New Providence."

"And?" Gallant frowned. "You want to get your hands on one of those?"

"Precisely."

"Where the hell do we find one?" Gallant wondered. "In case you hadn't noticed, Doctor, we're a good ways away from Providence."

"That kind of journey won't be necessary. It was my understanding that these implants were intended for high-ranking Advent officers only...captains, or above." Tygan clasped his hands behind his back. "If you give the order, I can perform an autopsy on the body we have in storage. The lacerations and incisions Corporal Kelly delivered on the specimen will not have damaged the chip, and will not impair my ability to determine its precise function."

Gallant eyed the chip, smugly hovering in a prison much like his own. "Well. A greater understanding of these implants would benefit us all."

"My thoughts exactly, Commander." Tygan waited a moment as Gallant shoved himself up. "Shall I consider that a directive to proceed?"

"Do it," Gallant ordered. "I want results on my datapad right away."

"Of course, Commander." Tygan saluted, then turned back to his work.

Gallant didn't move. He watched the scientist fiddling with the equipment on his desk, typing requests to the inventory detail for the officer cadaver's movement...

"You're curious about my scars," Tygan surmised, after a long moment. Gallant didn't blink.

"Among many other things." He curled his lip. "Gene therapy clinic in New Providence, huh?"

"It is not something I am proud of." Tygan turned back around. "I was fresh out of medical school when the alien invasion began. I wound up working in the pharmaceutical industry, which fell apart once Advent was formed. I was unemployed, and curiosity and need formed a powerful cocktail that drove me to seek work with the aliens' medical groups."

"What made you run away?" Gallant asked.

"Many things. As Advent tightened its grip on the world, I noticed disturbing parallels to certain times in human history. I've always considered myself an educated man, and I didn't like what I saw." Tygan shrugged. "If I hadn't been forced to remove my own implanted chip myself, the scars would be cleaner."

"You ripped...you ripped one of those from the back of your skull..." Gallant blinked slowly. "Are you serious?"

"Deadly, I'm afraid. I only had a handful of off-the-shelf painkillers and an old shed in upstate New York, apart from a small box of surgical tools I took with me, foreseeing the need. I used an automobile's rear-view mirrors to help me see as I worked."

"Jesus." Gallant shook his head. "You're a tough one, Doctor."

"I am fortunate I was able to get in touch with the Canadian Resistance." Tygan rocked his head side-to-side. "If not for them and their help nursing me back to health, I likely would have died, or been discovered by vipers. Through them, I eventually made contact with Central, and he brought me along when his forces secured the _Avenger_."

Gallant turned all of that over. "He seems to trust you."

"Do you?" Tygan looked impassive enough.

Gallant shook his head. "I don't trust anyone right now, Doctor. Anyone but John."

"He's the only connection you have to anything you remember. This is logical." Tygan nodded slowly. "I can only hope we come to an understanding given time, and the best service I can provide."

"Yeah. You keep hoping." Gallant turned for the door. "Get me that autopsy result as soon as you've finished work."

* * *

"Here." Evangeline Moreau handed her card through the window. " _Merci_."

" _De rien_ ," said the blur who took it, stuck it into his reader, and let the tech do the talking from there. After a moment, the reader beeped, and he handed her card back. Before Evangeline had even finished putting it in her purse, she was offered a white paper bag. "Your order, _madame_."

" _Merci_ ," Evangeline repeated, smiling before hitting the accelerator. Her old but dependable little three-wheeler moved, and in a moment she was back on the road.

The drive home was normal, except for her time stuck behind a slow truck full of Advent soldiers. They waved her on when they decided she was clear to pass, and that kind of courtesy was something Evangeline never wanted to take for granted. She even got a good look at the viper sedately curled up with her team, and wished she could have taken a picture. But for someone whose eyesight was quite terrible to start with, attempting to snap a picture while driving in front of the authorities seemed like a bad idea.

Evangeline took the turn for home. She drove down a busy street, then made sure to take an extra left, even though it was out of her way. She held her breath, lowering her speed and remaining careful of the many people hurrying around on the sidewalks and the chance they might cross without looking.

She sighed regretfully as she passed the building, still broken and battered, though covered in scaffolding and swarming with workers.

 _Next time_ , she told herself. _There's always next time_.

Five minutes more took her to home, and Evangeline pulled into the little driveway of her white, oblong house. She tapped the ignition, and it read her fingerprint and obediently disabled the engine. Evangeline claimed her purse and her datapad before clambering out of the car, leaning on it for a moment as she found her balance. Lovely her shoes were, but sometimes...with a wistful sigh, she closed the door and started for the door-

"Oh, _merde_." Evangeline turned, and she had to open everything back up and fetch her white paper bag, still sitting pleasantly in her passenger seat. The brunette cursed her own absent-mindedness.

" _Bonjour_ ," said Henri, as she came inside. "Is it still closed?"

"How do you know I drove by?" Evangeline wondered. She set the bag on their self-cleaning counters. "I brought Advent burgers."

"You're ten minutes later getting home than you would be if you just drove straight here." He chuckled. "You always look."

"It..." Evangeline removed her glasses, rubbing them clean on the hem of her dress. "It was after our meeting. On the way home." She sighed. "Still closed."

"That's no good." Her husband fished in the bag. "And Charlotte?"

"We talked, we competed on those data-games she loves so much, we had drinks!" Evangeline waved. "It was lovely." She hesitated. "Charlotte doesn't think I should visit the clinic, after it reopens."

"Why?" Henri frowned. Evangeline shrugged.

"I think she believes I might be caught up in another terrorist attack, like the one last week. Live fire in downtown Paris?" Evangeline shuddered. "I don't think it's likely, not if I'm just getting my eyes looked at. I'll be able to _see_ without these..." She slipped her glasses back on. "I'm the only one at work who wears them. They must think I'm too poor to afford gene therapy."

"We'll make it work," Henri promised. "You'll still wear the glasses, though, won't you? Just from time to time..." He broke off when she raised an eyebrow. "I...I like the look."

" _Do_ you?" Her lips twitched. "Men are all the same, aren't they?"

"Well..." He shrugged. "Forgive me?"

" _Mama_?" a six-year-old voice asked, its owner hurrying out from the living room. Evangeline smiled.

"I'm back!" she agreed. "How was school?"

"Fine." He lit up when he saw the Advent burger bag. "Did you-"

"There should be a toy in there," Evangeline allowed. "What did you study today?"

"Numbers," Nathan explained, eyes still fixed on the bag. "And vipers!"

"I saw a viper on the way home," Evangeline told him.

"You _did_?" Her son's eyes glowed. "Did you take a picture?"

"I would have," she promised. "I couldn't because I was driving."

"Oh." He deflated a bit. "Maybe it'll be a viper in the bag!"

"Maybe!" Evangeline produced her son's meal. "You can open it before eating, but you can't play with it until after."

" _Oui, mama._ " Nathan wasted no time ripping the bag open. "It's...it's...oh." He pulled his new toy free. "It's another chryssalid."

"Aw." Henri laid out Evangeline's food and his own. "Maybe next time."

"Vipers like giving hugs," Nathan explained, very seriously, as he set the chryssalid to the side. "They're very friendly. That's what my teacher says. Chryssalids too. Like...like dogs?" He frowned. "I've never seen a dog."

"Hopefully you never will," Evangeline said. "Because that would mean you left the city centers. And life is good here." She didn't spare the Advent camera in her dining room ceiling a glance. "Life is _very_ good here."

* * *

She was as beautiful today as the day they'd met. Those eyes, those cheeks, her gentle laugh and smile...

Carlos Mendoza contemplated the pictured of his beloved, fighting that curling twinge of loss that stalked him every day. If she was here in the darkened locker rooms, she'd only have sarcastic words for him about it...something to the effect of _live in the present_. It was good advice, especially for a soldier.

It was hard advice.

"Mendoza?"

" _Si_?" He looked up, jumped when he saw the black-clad figure approaching at a steady walk, and then hurriedly shoved the picture back into his breast pocket. "Liang!"

"Family?" Da-Xia Liang asked, frowning. Head to toe dressed in black, this woman, with hair to match. Of course, Carlos wouldn't see it for long. She had her head wrappings in hand, as if she wanted to be sure she was invisible here in the gloom. Like a ninja.

"Something to that effect." He coughed. "Do you need me?"

"Scuttlebutt says we've got a drop coming up," she confided. "It's been three days since we retrieved whatever Shen's _thing_ was. Three days is a long time to be waiting."

"This is true." Mendoza eyed her. "You think you're going?"

"I'd rather be prepared and left behind than called on unexpectedly."

"Well, that's certainly logical."

"Besides, I'm scheduled to meet with Central in three hours." Liang looked impassive, but there was trepidation in her voice. "Me and Jane Kelly. I came to let you know you and David White are in after me."

"Fantastic!" Carlos stood, stretching out his scarred, tattooed arms. "I'm looking forward to getting my shot at Advent."

"Aren't we all?" Liang wondered. "We all have debts to pay."

"What's yours?" Carlos raised his hands. "If it's my place to ask."

Her lips twitched. "They wrecked my car."

"That's it?" Carlos chuckled. "Must have been a wonderful car."

"It was," Liang agreed. "They made me ram it into one of their network towers. I _almost_ took the thing down."

"Made you?" Carlos hurried for the door to the Barracks. "A gun to your head? Mind control?"

"They were shooting at me. If I'd turned left or right, they'd have hit me."

"And they didn't when your car wrecked?"

"Well, they thought I died in the crash. One of their soldiers came in too close." Liang mimed snapping a neck, and Carlos shuddered from an odd cocktail mix of emotions. "I found he had a grenade, and that chaos was enough to cover my flight."

"Why were you running to start with?" Carlos inquired. Her eyes darkened.

" _That_ is not your place to ask."

"All right! I have my dark memories." He raised his hands again, more defensively. "Forget I said anything."

"I'll try. No promises." She clapped his shoulder. "Come on. I'll find Kelly - probably in the bar again, that _Irishwoman_ \- and you can hunt White down."

"Shooting range," Carlos guessed. "I think I'll clock an hour or two in there myself, if we're deploying."

"Not a bad idea," Liang allowed, mulling it over for a moment. "Well, let's find our people first. Then...meet you there?"

"Make it interesting?" Carlos beamed. "We compare scores. Loser buys the team a round after we get back."

"I'm going to look forward to thrashing you, Mendoza."

* * *

" _You're too trusting, John. The Skirmishers are Advent. Advent is the enemy. The enemy..._ " The man on screen shrugged, almost disinterestedly, before taking a swig from a green bottle. " _...is_ food _._ "

"Say what?" Edward Gallant mumbled, pausing at the edge of the bridge. "Say _what_?"

"Try not to remind me of that when we talk, Volk." Bradford looked rather off-put, but he rallied himself in the nick of time. "Look, I don't trust the Skirmishers much either, but they held up their end of the bargain. What about _you_?"

" _We'll see._ " The man on screen angrily thumped a fist down by his smoking, waiting cigar. " _Volk, out_."

The screen went dark, leaving only an afterimage of his annoyed grimace. Bradford shook his head.

"I think...he might actually _come_ ," he mumbled, wonder in his voice.

"Friend of yours?" Gallant thumped his way over, ignoring the sidelong looks from the bridge crew. Bradford turned.

"Commander!" He saluted. "Good to see you this morning."

"Central." Gallant nodded to the screen. "What the hell was that about?"

"That was Konstantine Volikov, or Volk, sir. Leader of one of the three major Resistance factions across the globe. The _Reapers_ , they're called."

"Reapers." Gallant tested the word. "Sounds...video gamey."

"Finally, someone who would understand my old pop culture references." Bradford looked giddy at the thought. "Well, there's three of these organizations. Together, we think they'd make one _hell_ of a fighting force against Advent."

"Let me guess." Gallant sighed. "They hate each other?"

"Unfortunately." Bradford turned back to the monitor, and he quickly pulled up data on all three of the factions, from symbols to leaders to tactical information. "The Reapers are a large part of the reason you're standing here, Commander. One of theirs managed to slip into the facility in Paris and confirm your presence for our raid."

"But?" Gallant leaned on a control console, heedless of the tech who now had to work around him. "I'm smelling a _but_ , John."

" _But_ she was working with a tip provided by the Skirmisher faction." Bradford highlighted them, and Gallant jumped as the images popped up.

"What the hell?" he demanded, eyes wide. "Are those..."

"Advent soldiers. Yes." Bradford raised a calming hand. "The Reapers are loners living in the shadows on the edge of the wild, sir, but the Skirmishers were Advent soldiers - officers, troopers, even the odd priest - who managed to break their mind control and flee the aliens' oversight."

"Did they, though?" Gallant wondered. Bradford shrugged.

"Volk and the Reapers don't think so. However, the Skirmishers have held up fairly in any bargain I've struck with them...including this latest one."

"What latest bargain?" Gallant frowned. "What didn't you tell me?"

"I didn't hide anything, sir, if that's what you're asking." Bradford looked a little defensive. "I was just...it was set in motion before your recovery, and I thought adding you to a complex negotiation halfway through was counterproductive."

Gallant's stare tuned to an icy glare. "I'm not a deadweight. I'm not a load."

"No, you're not, sir." Bradford sighed. "Look, these two groups _hate_ each other. You're not the soft-spoken, silver-tongued type."

"And you are?"

"More than you, Edward." Bradford turned back to the computer. "The Skirmishers have agreed to send a representative to meet with one from the Reapers. Together, they'll hammer out some kind of truce. Neither faction trusts the other, but both of them trust _you_ , sir."

"Me?" Gallant blinked. "They've never _met_ me."

"But they've heard of you. I'm the point man on this, but they know XCOM isn't out to shank either of them. With that in mind, they're allowing us to send a two-man escort detail with each envoy, and they've put the meeting on neutral ground."

Gallant grunted. "I see. Some warning would have been nice, Central."

"Sorry, Commander."

"But..." Gallant pushed himself up. "Now that it's in motion, I suppose there's nothing for it. It sounds beneficial to the cause."

"Indeed, sir." Bradford inclined his head. "Shall I proceed?"

"Consider it a directive," Gallant agreed. "Let's make peace."

"Commander!" A tech waved from across the bridge. "Given our position...we're in the Sahara, sir. The meeting point is in Novosibirsk. There's no way the Skyranger can reach that position."

Gallant coughed. " _John_..."

"Who said anything about the Skyranger?" Bradford looked amused. He touched his comms. "Shen, are we ready?"

"For what?" Gallant wondered. Apparently Shen's response was good enough, because Bradford smiled.

"Hold on to something, sir." He gestured to the railing around the holodisplay. "Trust me."

"Bradford-"

"This isn't a base, Commander," Bradford explained. "Initiate vertical takeoff."

" _Vertical_ -"

The base shook. Things rumbled and groaned, and a terrible roaring filled the air. Gallant seized the railing with both hands, clutching his cane under his arm as everything _shook_ like an earthquake back in San Francisco.

"Oh," he finally whispered, as an abrupt _weightless_ feeling struck him. "The _Avenger_. Like a _ship_."

"We are airborne," a tech reported. "All systems are green."

"Then take us to Siberia," Bradford ordered. "Let's fly."

* * *

 **Author's Note 6: Off the Ground**

And we _finally_ have the Avenger in the air. This was originally slated for last chapter, but it only made sense on the way to a mission...and kicking off Lost and Abandoned and cutting the first mandated Guerilla Op just seemed like excellent streamlining. Don't worry! There's still a _lot_ of missions on the list.

Tygan will complete what research is necessary at the speed of plot, and the same for Shen's manufacturing of equipment. There will still be in-game and in-story logic applied to these things, so don't expect the soldiers to whip shard cannons out of their asses, but I'm not going to bind myself to all the actual game's requirements if my intuition strikes up a better story, any more than I am for cutscenes or fight choreography or missions.

I mentioned last time that I'm an author by trade. That's correct, and I have written close to 20 books - it depends on which of my early projects you count, whether this counts, etc. I don't know if I'm allowed to link to any external samples of my professional work, but they do exist! Hopefully I'll clear up whether a link is acceptable at some point.

Until then, _Vigilo Confido_.


	7. Lost and Abandoned

_Please remember to favorite and follow!_

* * *

 _"The death of one man is a tragedy. The death of one million is a statistic."_

 _~Joseph Stalin_

* * *

 **Chapter Seven: Lost and Abandoned**

"I don't like this place." Carlos Mendoza kept his rifle up, scanning carefully with every step he took into the shelled-out, savaged, dust-coated ruin of Novosibirsk. "A million and a half people used to live in this city." He eyed a broken-up department store. "Now it's a ghost town."

"Maybe not entirely." David White hefted his machinegun. "Stay close, rookie. We're not far from the rendezvous point."

"Yeah." Carlos inhaled the scent of rotten meat and broken sewage lines, with a subtle under-odor he couldn't entirely place. Fermented pickles? Honey? Something sickly sweet that made his stomach churn. "Liang had the right idea with that head wrap."

"Maybe we should have worn gas masks." White didn't look entirely comfortable either. "We don't have a medkit with us."

They advanced in silence after that, shining the flashlights taped to the sides of their weapons on anything that moved. Without fail, it was floating refuse and shifting dust: nothing more, and nothing less.

"Is there _anything_ alive in this city?" Carlos wondered, as they rounded the next bend. He paused.

"There has to be," White muttered, as they came up on a campfire and roasting spit, with... "That's..."

"That's a chryssalid head." Carlos lowered his gun, staring. "Someone's _roasting_ a chryssalid's head _on a spit_."

"If it smells good, there's plenty more."

Carlos spun, taking direct aim at a cloaked, masked figure who clambered into view from behind a blockage of rubble. Her mask's eyes glowed yellow, and for a moment all the rookie could think of was an Advent MEC.

" _I believe that would be Outrider_ , _the Reaper contact,_ " Central told the pair. That was good. It kept Carlos from shooting her and taking his chances later.

"You are safe here," this _Outrider_ said, removing her mask. Carlos sighed in relief when he saw legitimate human features, even if they were harsh eyes and cold lips. "Safer than you realize."

"Oh, _fuck_ ," White muttered, as close to a dozen more Reapers appeared out of nowhere. He did lower his machinegun. "How did you do that?"

"XCOM merely adopted the dark. Reapers were born in it; _molded_ by it." Outrider jumped lightly down from her perch.

" _I'm guessing you find the light nothing but blinding?_ " Central quipped. Carlos blinked.

"I don't get it either," White assured him, when the rookie glanced over for help.

" _You two are hopeless_."

A scream echoed through the streets, rippling and guttural. Carlos whirled, hunting for its source as it rebounded off of buildings left and right, tearing up from the alleys and filling his ears.

"What the hell was that?" White demanded, gun back up. "Advent?"

"Worse." Outrider replaced her mask. "We need to move, and quickly. My people will take care of this camp."

"Right." White fell into step behind her, as she brazenly sauntered off without consulting her escort. "Mendoza, take the right side."

"Of course." Carlos did, and if he held his gun a little tightly, well...who could blame him?

" _Stay low_ ," Central advised. " _We're picking up life signs ahead_."

"The Lost, I imagine." Outrider slipped her rifle into hand, checking the bolt. "Stay close."

"Lost?" White asked.

"People. Or at least, they once were. They've been in these ruined places too long, exposed to the aliens' chemical pods." Carlos paused when the Australian shot him a disbelieving look. "What? There are ruined cities in Mexico. Everyone knows about Tijuana-"

Something _screeched_ , and Carlos jumped as it vaulted from the shadows. His rifle came up, and bullets tore through the creature's head, blowing molting flesh and melting brains out in an acid spray.

"Fuck!" Carlos hit the ground hard as the _second_ Lost he hadn't seen jumped him from behind. He scrambled for his gun as it lunged his way-

 _Crack!_

The _thing_ collapsed. Carlos looked up, and there was Outrider, poised on a broken-down car, rifle smoking. The rookie seized his gun.

"What the hell-"

"There are more of them!" White's machinegun erupted, and bullets tore up the ancient, run-down street ahead. Carlos used a half-broken fire hydrant for support, grabbing his gun and rushing over to the nearest building corner for cover.

"They are drawn to the sounds of conflict!" Outrider warned, before her rifle _cracked_ two more times. Carlos risked a glance, and he choked when he saw _dozens_ of shambling bodies streaming down the roadway, shouting and snarling and howling, running on two limbs or four, spitting green and coming apart in showers of lime whenever White or Outrider's shots eviscerated them.

" _Dios mio!_ " Carlos fired, and his first burst drilled into the base of a dashing Lost's throat. It tumbled, and he selected his next target, feeling the recoil as the rifle did its best to knock him over.

"Aim for the heads!" Outrider called, before diving off her car. Two of the things scrambled after her, swinging wildly, and she blocked with her rifle, twisting one around until she could dispatch it with a shot through the jaw. The other loomed behind her-

 _Bang!_ Carlos spent his last three bullets on a little burst between its eyes, and the thing collapsed. Outrider glanced, but Carlos promptly forgot about her, scrambling for his next mag.

"Reloading!" he called, as White's cannon continued to blare. He hit the magazine release, kicked the old one aside, slammed the new into place-

"I'm out!" White ducked behind his car. "They're still coming!"

"Keep shooting!" Outrider called. Her rifle _cracked_ in the dusky overcast light. "They are weakening!"

"Right. Let's see how you like _this!_ " Carlos reached to his belt, and he pulled out his frag grenade. He ripped the pin free and held on for just a second, timing his throw until the Lost were a little closer.

"Don't!" Outrider cried, as Carlos hurled the explosive. It rolled under the Lost's feet, and an instant later-

 _Boom!_

"Gotcha!" Carlos cried, as all but one of the swarm blew apart from the impact, limbs and bone fragments flying in all directions. Smoke rose, and the stink of charred flesh invaded his nostrils. "That one's from Sonora!"

"You idiot!" Outrider's rifle _cracked_ , and the last of the Lost fell with a bullet in its eye. The Reaper loomed over Carlos, and he blinked.

"Idiot? I just saved all our lives-"

"They're attracted to-"

That shriek echoed again. It rang through the streets, and Carlos' blood ran cold as he realized how much louder it was, how much _closer_.

"...they're attracted to explosions," he finished, clutching his gun.

"Yes." Outrider checked hers. "Every Lost within a dozen city blocks is now going to converge _directly_ on our position."

* * *

The girls walked in silence. Clad in black from head to toe, Da-Xia Liang didn't seem like a wild conversation partner, and Jane Kelly didn't like the look of this burned-out, shelled-out, looted, broken, abandoned ruin. Everything was gray and tan and dusty and savage, and her and Liang's footfalls were the only noise in the stillness.

" _Team Two, this is Command._ " That wasn't Central's voice, but the raspy growl of the man who was supposed to save them all. " _Team One is encountering significant resistance en route to the meeting place. Your contact should be just ahead._ "

"Roger that, sir." Jane bit the acknowledgment off, but left it at that. Maybe the Commander had just had a bad day, back in Africa? Maybe he really _was_ as good as Bradford claimed.

 _Boom!_

"What the fuck!" Jane dove behind a truck, gratified to see Liang mirroring her at the corner just across the sidewalk. Black smoke vomited up from the next alley over, and the sound of echoing gunfire.

" _Team Two, advance with caution_!" Commander Gallant ordered. " _Find out what the hell's going on in there!_ "

"Yes, sir." Jane moved out of cover, shotgun raised. "Liang, I'm going-"

An orange clad Advent soldier burst from the smoke. Jane almost shot him, but before she could bring her gun up, a line snaked from darkness and wrapped around his throat. The soldier could only scream as he was hauled back into the shadows.

"What the hell was that?" Liang demanded. Only her eyes were visible between her ninja wrappings, but they were full of shock and fear. "Corporal?"

"I don't have a clue," Jane admitted. She advanced, gun leveled. "Let's find out."

"You have nothing to fear." Jane would have felt a lot better if the speaker hadn't visibly been...been...

"You're Advent," she accused of the white-armored soldier kneeling, helmetless, before the orange-clad one. Orange lay in a daze against a dumpster, while the white one examined him.

"I am a Skirmisher. My name is Pratal Mox."

" _Mox_?" That was Central. " _That's your contact, Team Two._ "

"Right." Jane lowered her shotgun, but mostly for form's sake. She kept her finger on the trigger.

"They were sent to purge the Drak-ten. The Lost." Mox examined the body over which he knelt, then drew back his arm and drove the two blades protruding past his wrist into the _thing_ 's jaw from below. It shook and choked, but in a flash the Skirmisher finished his work, and when he drew his yellow-stained blades free, there was no life left in his victim. "She is now free of the false gods' influence. Would that I could say the same of all my kind."

"Hopefully today helps with that," Liang said. "We need to move, Mox."

"A wise statement." Mox reclaimed his helmet from the ground, and in an instant he placed it back atop his head. "Lead the way."

"I will." Jane hoped Liang would keep an eye on the Skirmisher from the rear. Every minute she left her back turned to him...

" _Your route to the meeting place is directly ahead,_ " Gallant advised, before coughing. " _Proceed with caution_."

* * *

"Fuck!" Carlos stumbled, barely keeping his footing. "Stupid _fucking_ potholes-"

"Mendoza!" White paused at the end of the street ahead. "Catch up, slowpoke!"

"Our route goes directly through this shop," Outrider said. She paused, then took aim right at Carlos. "Lost, behind you!"

"Damn it!" Carlos threw himself flat, and then the Reaper opened fire. White joined in an instant later, and the rookie could only roll behind the nearest dilapidated car, leaning out with rifle at the ready. He counted as quickly as he could...until he _lost_ count.

"We've got a _fuckton_ of Lost coming in!" he cried, before backpedaling for his companions. "Cover me!"

"Move! Move!" White's machinegun roared, and heavy bullets tore the Lost to shreds. Outrider's unusual bolt-action rifle barked much less frequently, but every shot was a kill, so Carlos supposed that was all right.

"Okay!" He scrambled into position at White's flank, then did some shooting of his own, thankful for that time with Liang on the range. Lost tumbled and collapsed, but the rest merely marched over the corpses of their fellows, pushing and shoving to be the first into contact with the XCOM team. He went through an entire magazine that way, and the horde showed little sign of stopping.

"I'll lock them down!" White promised, pausing to reload as soon as Carlos was back in action. "Mendoza, take Outrider and secure the goddamn shop!"

"On it!" Carlos backpedaled, keeping the Lost engaged until White could bring his cannon back up. It whirled and then roared, spitting fire and lead, and Carlos could eject his empty mag and race for the shopfront, listening to the constant _cracking_ of Outrider's rifle while she followed.

"Breaching!" Carlos kicked the door off its hinges, and then he swept through some kind of clothing store, littered with fallen mannequins and old, moth-eaten clothes that had never been properly inventoried. He kicked a few ladies' shoes aside, swallowing as the half-light outside fell to a more serious dark, illuminated only by his rifle's flashlight. "Outrider?"

 _Crack!_ Something _whizzed_ by Carlos' head, and then something else screamed. He whirled, and-

"Lost!" Carlos opened fire, and his bullets chewed into the pack that had...had they been _waiting_ inside? Was this a _trap_? "A half-dozen of them!"

 _Crack! Bang-bang-bang! Crack!_ His gun and Outrider's both rang in the gloom, and blood and rotten flesh sprayed. Carlos was sure he was shooting mannequins as well as actual Lost, but if he got all of them, he was fine with wasting some ammunition-

 _Wham!_

"Damn it!" Carlos staggered, clutching his cheek. His rifle clattered into the gloom, and then the Lost who had bashed its head into his lunged. On reflex, Carlos gave it a right hook straight out of the Resistance Haven boxing rings, and the thing stumbled a pace left. Emboldened and wild, Carlos lunged, bashing the Lost's cheek with a vicious cross that drove it to its knees.

" _Hijo de puta!_ " Carlos punctuated that by stomping his heel down on the creature's skull. It crashed to the floor, shrieking like an animal and trying to rise, limbs flailing. Carlos kicked it again, then grabbed a chair and brought it over and down, smashing the old thing to splinters. While the creature struggled to rise, he took a deliberate step back, sweeping up his gun.

 _Bang!_

"The building is clear," Outrider reported, as Carlos sucked in breath, shaking. "Mister White?"

" _Could use some_ -"

"David!" Carlos cried, as the man screamed. He darted back to the front façade of the building, and he snapped his rifle up as he saw the big Australian bashing away with his gun at a half-dozen Lost tearing and biting at him. The rookie swore.

"If I shoot them, I might hit _him_ ," he cried.

"Then shoot carefully." Outrider took aim, and her gun roared. Carlos swallowed, setting his eye to the much cruder, much less accurate sight atop his rifle.

There were _still_ dozens of the creatures pouring down the street. Every second White was caught up fighting was a second they got closer...

Carlos prayed for the first time in years, as he lined up his shot and squeezed the trigger.

* * *

"No contacts so far, Central," Jane said, as she hurried through the savaged streets. "We're inbound on the meeting point with Mox in tow. ETA six minutes."

" _Roger that, Team Two. Team One is heavily engaged, so you might have to pull their chestnuts out of the fire_."

"The Lost are of little concern," Mox said. "If we must rescue the others, so be it. It is these Reapers of yours that I worry about."

"I imagine the feeling's mutual," Jane muttered.

"Wait!" Liang held up a hand. "I hear something. Screaming, gunfire."

" _That would be Team One_ -"

"No. It's coming from..." The rookie hurried to the lead. "It sounds more like..."

"Don't get too far ahead!" Jane picked up the pace, catching Liang's arm. "Hey. I'm in the lead, you're in the back, damn it." She swallowed as she realized she'd left both their backs turned to Mox. "You have to cover me."

"Sorry!" Liang swallowed. "It just sounds like-"

"It sounds like Advent." Mox casually strolled past the two, checking his bullpup carbine. "It's coming from directly ahead." He leaned out from the corner. "...we have made contact with the enemy."

"What?" Jane abandoned Liang, scurrying up to the Skirmisher's position. "We have..." She broke off. " _Oh_.

"There must be..." Liang trailed off. "There must be _dozens_ of them!"

That was a conservative estimate, Jane thought: it looked more like a hundred Advent soldiers, mostly those orange-armored ones stiffened with red officers, but with the occasional trooper sown in. Flames shot out on all sides, because the oranges held flamethrowers in hand, and spat hot tongues of elemental hate at the swarms of Lost converging on them from all sides. Trucks full of fuel and ammunition supported the infantry, and Jane saw at least a half-dozen hostiles hurrying to sweep new equipment from the vehicles, or plug their flamethrowers in for refueling.

" _That's a whole_ army _of them,_ " Central swore. Jane swallowed.

"How the hell-"

"Yes, it is. And it is one we do not have time to face." Mox raised his bullpup.

"What are you doing?" Jane demanded, in the moment before he fired. The carbine barked, and an instant later-

"Clearing a path." Mox watched as one of the flame-throwing Advent soldiers' packs burst open, the venting jet stream hurling him into one of the fuel trucks. Jane barely had time for her eyes to widen.

" _Get down!_ " she cried, tackling Liang. Both women slammed hard on the pavement, covering their heads in the instant before-

* * *

"What the _fuck_?" Carlos demanded, as the earth abruptly shook. Buildings rumbled, glass shattered, Lost tumbled by the dozens onto their hands and knees, and somewhere a car alarm went off. He nearly dropped his gun, crashing to his knees as the _rumble_ filled the world, and a massive plume of dark smoke rose like a bonfire down south, vomiting skyward with sparks and flame enveloped in its choking embrace. Dust scattered and flew, and after a minute Carlos thought he tasted ash.

"Keep firing!" Outrider followed her own advice with gusto, emptying her next magazine directly into the stunned horde. White's machinegun roared, and even bloodied and battered like he was, he made a good showing of himself, ripping a half-dozen of the filthy creatures to shreds in as many seconds.

"Come on!" Carlos fired, covering the Australian as his magazine ran dry. White didn't bother to reload, instead sprinting for cover, bent low as Carlos' and Outrider's bullets shot over and past him. The Lost managed to rise, and Carlos quickly ran through what was left of his mag, swearing as the rifle inevitably clicked empty.

"Reloading!" he called, scrambling for the magazine release. White worked with his cannon, and for a moment, only Outrider's rifle spoke.

Until she, too, had to pause to slip new cartridges into place.

"Wait!" she cried, as Carlos rose. He almost fired anyway, but hesitated when he saw...

"They're leaving." He frowned, watching the remaining Lost turning and scrambling off into the streets. "Running away. Did we scare them?"

"No." Outrider lowered her gun. "They're heading for the blast point. They've forgotten all about us now: the Lost only care about the most recent thing to assault their senses."

"Right." White grimaced, clutching the bloody wound on his neck. "We should get moving, then. Meeting place isn't far away."

"Hopefully Team Two makes it in once piece," Carlos muttered.

"I hope your soldiers are all right," Outrider agreed. "Though I will shed no tears for this Skirmisher of yours if he comes to harm."

Carlos sighed. "I'm looking forward to this meeting already."

* * *

"Holy shit... _holy shit_..." Jane got her knees under her, glaring up at Mox. "Are you out of your goddamn _mind_?"

"We did not have time to engage that force. I eliminated an obstacle."

" _Unfortunately, that was the way to the meeting-place_ ," Central chimed in. " _And-_ "

A shriek. A blood-curdling, bone-chilling shriek ran through the air, and Jane hesitated only long enough to pull Liang to her feet before raising her shotgun.

"What's that?" she demanded.

"The Drak-ten." Mox didn't sound concerned. "They are attracted to the noise of battle. Explosions especially."

" _And you just_ blew up a fuel truck _?"_ Central cried.

"Find us a way out of here!" Jane ordered. "We'll circle the wagons around...around..." She picked out a low wall and archway, well suited with the fire to cover their backs and wrecked vehicles for cover on the main street. "Around that archway!"

" _It's going to take a minute_ ," Central warned.

"You will have your minute." Mox turned for the arch. "Come. The Drak-ten will not be far."

"If we die..." Jane glared murder at the back of the alien's head.

"What will you do?" He _still_ didn't sound concerned.

"Contact!" Liang shouted. She fired, and the rattling pops of her rifle in the stillness were thunder. "A _lot_ of contacts!"

"Where?" Jane spun. A moment later, her shotgun roared. "I see them! Dead ahead!" And see them she did: not just a handful of Lost, but a massive swarm, coming in by the dozens or hundreds with wild shrieks of energy. Their limbs dangled and their jaws hung open, and green pustules grew out of their shoulders and cheeks and hairless heads. In this state, it was impossible to tell if they were male or female, and at that moment Jane didn't really care.

 _Brap-brap-brap!_ Mox' bullpup joined the fray, and he switched targets impossibly quick, ripping through what Lost Liang missed. Jane gritted her teeth.

 _Boom! Clickity-boom!_ Her shotgun sprayed buckshot into the throng, and multiple Lost went down per hit. Limbs flew, and pale green blood and pus blasted the successive waves of one-time human beings, pasting over their faces like warpaint.

" _Team Two, we found a way out,_ " Commander Gallant chimed in, tone somewhere between snarl and howl. " _Straight past the swarm, there's a wrecked bus. Get overtop of it and they can't follow!_ "

"Straight _through_ the..." Jane howled as her magazine ran dry, and she ducked behind the low wall, scrambling to stick new rounds in the chamber. "Are you out of your _fucking mind_ , Commander?"

"If it is the only way, so be it." Mox seemed awfully detached, considering this was his bloody mess. Jane debated " _accidentally_ " putting buckshot between his shoulder blades. Regretfully, she decided that she and Liang needed his firepower if they wanted to have a prayer of survival.

 _But I'm taking that bastard into a ring when we're out of this,_ she swore. _I'll beat the fuck out of him_.

"Mox, Liang, I'll take point!" Jane rose. "Cover me until I make the halfway mark...that alien canister, there! Then you move up by ones!"

"It will be done!" Mox ordered. He reloaded with the ease of ten thousand hours' training. "You're covered, Jane Kelly. Go!"

She wasn't going to thank him. Instead, Jane took a breath and tried to channel Irina, or James. They'd died like heroes for their friends, hadn't they?

Despite every shrieking instinct in her body, Jane rose, gun at the ready, and bolted straight _into_ the crowd of shambling Lost.

 _Boom!_ Smoke wafted from her gun muzzle as she worked the pump, gritting her teeth as more Lost tumbled, hit by bullpup or rifle rounds. Jane based one's head in passing with her gun butt, and his skull cracked from the hit, which was more than enough for her. She dropped and slid between another's legs, and as he turned, Liang's fire ripped him apart.

 _Boom!_ The shotgun spoke its mind in anger, and Jane's dash became something slower as she approached her mark. She brought the gun to eye level, and now instead of firing from the hip she took far more careful aim. _Clickity-boom! Clickity-boom!_

"Here!" she finally cried, as her foot tapped the alien canister. Jane turned, risking being overwhelmed from ahead to pump her remaining shots into the swarm behind her, blowing a half-dozen Lost down in three times as many pieces. Her arms shook from constant recoil, and her legs from something else altogether, though she tried to reload as smoothly as possible. The instant her gun was ready, she waved. "Come on!"

 _Boom! Clickity-boom!_ As Lost tried to surge around the canister, Jane's fire kept them at bay. They rose like a tide, slamming into her rock with force, repelled each time. Three waves charged, and each one eventually came to a halt as flying shotgun pellets literally reduced it to splattered gore and shattered bone dust painting the pavement.

"I'm out!" Jane warned, grabbing for her belt. She slid cartridges into place, teeth set.

"Forward!" Mox ran to her...and then _past_ her, bullpup roaring. Liang was only a heartbeat behind him, clapping Jane on the shoulder before she took off in their suicidal mark's wake. The Irishwoman took a deep, steadying breath.

Then she lunged, and three guns blared, literally blasting a path through the ranks of shamblers ahead.

"There's the bus!" Liang called. She pointed to the thing, lying on its side with the roof facing down the road. "There's a trash can. We can jump from there onto its top side-"

" _Do it!_ " Jane ground to a halt in the roadway, turning to empty her magazine the time-tested way. Mox' bullpup picked up as she fell silent, and _again_ she was reloading. "Mox, you're next!"

"We will cover your escape," the Skirmisher promised. Jane leveled her shotgun, taking aim at the oncoming rush.

"I'm up!" Liang cried. Her rifle _banged_ away, and several of Jane's closer foes tumbled. "Come on!"

"Go!" Jane fired, and heavy buckshot scoured the enemy. Lost rushed past her, but her and Liang's lead was enough to slow the horde. Jane spared one glance for Pratal Mox, and she was both relieved and annoyed to see him prance lightly from the trash can to the topside of the bus, rolling to his feet and opening fire without hesitation.

"Corporal!" Liang cried. "Come on!"

"I'm-" _Clickity-boom! Clickity-boom!_ "-coming!" Jane turned for the bus, not even bothering to reload as she heard hot, heavy Lost breaths and footsteps behind her in a mighty rush-

One of them was alive, at the base of the bus. Liang had shot it, but it wasn't dead yet, and Jane actually thought it smiled at her...in the instant before it kicked the trash can over.

"No!" Liang cried, before putting another bullet into the thing. Jane ground to a halt.

"Fuck. Fuck, fuck..." She looked around, but there was nothing: no convenient rope, no ladder, no springboard or catapult...

"Take my hand!" Liang leaned down while Mox continued firing, and Jane sprinted for her. She reached up, standing on tip-toe with her fingers mere inches from the rookie's. Liang nodded. "Jump! I'll catch you!"

"Right!" Jane bent her knees. "I'm coming-"

She screamed as hands caught her sword - her _sword_ , the useless deadweight itself! Jane flailed, lashing out with elbows and feet, trying to swing her shotgun around like a club to break the thing's hold. Liang screamed her name, but then she seized her gun, and bullets lanced into the Lost crowd.

"Get off it!" Jane did manage to shake the Lost's hold after a bullet caught it between the eyes, but then her back pressed into the bus' roof, and she scrambled to fit ammunition in her shotgun. The swarm loomed, like sharks smelling blood.

 _Boom!_ Finally, ammunition! _Clickity-boom! Clickity-boom!_

It wasn't enough. _Nothing_ would be enough, not at this distance. Jane's knees knocked and her eyes widened as _they_ came, in an onrushing unstoppable tide. Liang's fire weakened them and Jane's shotgun stalled them, but she only had so many rounds, and they were endless.

"Corporal." Mox landed beside her, bullpup forgotten on the bus. Jane spared him a shocked look.

"No! You've got to get to the meeting-place-"

"And so do you. Please remain calm."

" _Remain calm?_ " Jane shrieked. " _Remain fucking calm? What the fuck about now says it's the fucking time to remain fucking calm_ -" She broke off as he wrapped an arm around her waist. " _What the fuck are you doing_ -"

 _Bang!_ That wasn't a rifle's detonation. It was deeper, louder...and it came from Mox' arm. Something lanced out and up, and Jane heard Liang yelp.

Then _yelp_ was a soft word for what she did when Mox _flew up_ , using his feet to _bounce_ off the bus' roof.

 _Thud!_ Jane's cry turned into a hemorrhaging gasp when she hit metal on her back, and she coughed, choking for breath. Mox loomed over her, and he tilted his helmeted head.

"Do you require assistance, Corporal?"

"I...I..." Jane rolled onto her side, grabbing for her shotgun. "The Lost-"

"Are safely below us. They will forget what they are chasing by the time they can muster the force to move this bus or the creativity to assemble a ladder."

"What did you _do_?" Jane asked. Mox chuckled.

"My suit comes with a grapnel launcher, Corporal. It is a highly useful tool." The Skirmisher offered his hand. "You are welcome."

"I...I..." Jane swallowed...then took his hand. "Thank you."

"It is what soldiers do for each other." Mox reclaimed his bullpup.

" _Outrider and Team One should be waiting for you ahead_ ," Central chimed in, a bit subdued. " _I know this wasn't the easiest op, but I have to believe it'll still be worth it in the end._ "

Mox scoffed. " _That_ depends on the Reapers."

* * *

 **Author's Note 7: The Living Dead**

Forewarning: I do _not_ like zombies. They annoy me, they're not particularly threatening, and the logic of a zombie's functionality or a zombie apocalypse just falls apart more and more the more you really think about it. On the flip side, they were fun to play against in XCOM 2, and I've used them before in some of my other works.

And can I just say that Skirmishers are _amazing_? I like them the best of all three new classes(I admit this freely!), though that's not dissing Reapers or Templars. I've played extensively with the former and some with the latter as of the time of this writing, and though they're really enjoyable, my playstyle is highly mobile and aggressive...which happen to be a Skirmisher's two main strengths. Plus, they're just _cool_.

Next chapter might drop late or early. It's supposed to drop on October 11, however I will be flying out to Hawaii for my honeymoon on the 10th. I appreciate your patience as I do my best to adhere to my regular update schedule despite being out of state. If I can't manage to, I'll drop chapters Eight(Oct 11), Nine(Oct 14) and Ten(Oct 18) when I return on the 18th, all in a block. Hopefully this won't be necessary, but it is the backup plan, so please understand if I'm late updating.

Last comment: by this point, I should have finished assembly work on "Season One" of _Vigilo Confido_ offline, or at least be very close(I want it done before I fly out). I'm putting this here to keep me honest about knocking out the last few chapters(I'm working on 16/25 as of the time of this writing). I'll talk more about the seasons and scheduling later.

Until next time, _Vigilo Confido_.


	8. Assassin

_Please remember to favorite and follow!_

* * *

 _"For thou_ _art_ _a holy people unto the Lord thy God: the Lord thy God hath Chosen thee to be a special people unto himself, above all people that_ _are_ _upon the face of the earth."_

 _~Deutoronomy 7:6_

* * *

 **Chapter Eight: Assassin**

" _Mox?_ Pratal _Mox_?" Outrider sounded straight-up offended - no. _Insulted_. "The very same Pratal Mox that slaughtered my people by the thousands in the days after the invasion?"

" _He's kept good faith_ ," Central snapped, while Carlos Mendoza and David White scanned the immediate area. The old raised rail line _seemed_ secure, but neither operative was entirely trustful of this city, not after everything. " _If it weren't for him, one of ours wouldn't have made it._ "

"You expect me to treat with..." Outrider's eye twitched, and Carlos wished she hadn't foregone her mask. She actually looked scarier _without_ the damn thing.

" _He's approaching now, from the west side. I know you two_ both _have a lot of reasons to hate each other, but we have reasons to work together as well_."

"The voice of reason, as always." Carlos eyed the west side. "Tell you what, David: I'll be glad to see Kelly and Liang."

"Damn straight." The Australian checked his gun, then the skies. "Don't see any alien craft up there. I think we might just be in the clear."

"Be careful saying things like that," Carlos warned. He paused. "Incoming, on the rail line."

" _Team One, this is Team Two. We're approaching along the rail line from the west side - those your lights we see?_ "

"If those are your lights passing the station, then yeah," Carlos replied. "Move on in, Corporal."

" _Roger that_." In the gloom they approached: three lights for three soldiers, all doggedly maintaining their tired pace along the elevated rail. Carlos' tension eased a bit at the team's full reunion.

"You look like you had a scuffle," he observed. Liang waved absently.

"No big deal." She sat at the rail's edge, heaving a grateful sigh. "Just about sixty billion Lost coming down the main street."

"Lies. Must have been thirty billion: we had the rest." David rubbed at his neck. "Nasty little buggers."

"They bang you up?" Jane asked. David shrugged.

"I'm fine."

"Pratal Mox." Outrider's long trench coat rustled as she approached the Skirmisher, rifle still in hand. Carlos, Jane, and the other soldiers turned to watch, nervously trading glances. "The butcher himself comes to parlay."

* * *

"Well, this is it." Gallant leaned forward on the rail. "This is the moment where they put aside their differences and agree to join forces against the greater threat."

"I'm sure it is, sir."

He gave Bradford his best glower. It was a good one. "Don't you be a sarcastic piece of shit on my bridge, Mister Bradford."

"Can't help it, Commander. In the blood." Bradford eyed the holodisplay dutifully, while a few techs chuckled. Gallant resented being a joke on general principles, but he'd been to West Point before getting shoehorned out to Groom Lake and then the XCOM Project's HQ. Morale was a fickle animal, and rapport among senior officers was a good way to create the impression that everything was fine. Besides, a guerilla organization's rules on discipline and seniority were considerably more lax than a traditional military's.

"Commander?"

"What?" Gallant eyed the technician seeking his attention, who was _of course_ seated as far as humanly possible from his ( _raised_!)command position. "More Lost?"

"I don't think so, sir." The man adjusted his scanner for a moment. "I'm reading something in the area, but I don't know what it is. Some kind of...energy disturbance."

"Thermals?" Gallant inquired.

"We've got..." The woman at _that_ station chewed her lip for a moment, which was something that didn't fill Gallant with cheer and confidence. "There's a thermal signature on the platform. About four hundred meters due west of Menace."

"Menace?" Bradford touched his comm. "Eyes up. There's something moving to your west."

* * *

"Are you sure, sir?" Jane Kelly examined the western approach dubiously. "Only thing I see moving is an Advent burger wrapper. God knows how it got here...this place has been abandoned since before Advent was a thing."

" _Say again: you see nothing?_ "

"Not a damn thing." Jane glanced to her companions. "Sing if I'm wrong, boys."

"I'm with her," Mendoza grunted. "Nothing, Central."

"Nothing," David agreed. "Rail line's clear, sir."

" _Must be a system glitch. Stand by and cover the meeting_." He sighed. " _Let's try and play nice today, people._ "

"So," Outrider growled. "Advent's most brutal captain comes to atone for his sins."

"I am no longer that being." Mox came to a halt with a good twenty feet of distance between him and Outrider. He spread his hands. "I am _free_ now."

"Taking off that helmet does not change what you are." Outrider's lip curled. "Reapers have long memories." Now a nasty glint appeared in her eye. " _Elder puppet_."

"Whoa!" Jane cried, as Mox drew his arm back. Those twin-blades popped out, and he growled at Outrider, his whole posture screaming _danger_.

"Any time," the Reaper invited, leveling her rifle.

"We have to do something," Mendoza whispered. Jane shook her head.

"Do _what?_ We shoot or attack one, the parlay's over just the same as if they kill each other-"

* * *

"She's going to shoot," Gallant predicted, clutching the rail with white knuckles. "She's going to shoot, damn it-"

"Hey!" Bradford hit his comms unit. He took a preparatory breath. "The way I see it, we have two options: _join forces and kick the Elders off our world_...or, if you'd prefer, _kill each other here and now_." He paused for a moment. "The choice is yours."

Tension. Gallant waited, swallowing. If Outrider opened fire...if Mox lunged...could he still overthrow Advent without the factions' help? They were the new Council, and their resources could mean everything to his fledgling war effort.

He waited, barely able to breathe, heart pounding.

" _Mox is standing down_ ," Jane Kelly finally reported, and Gallant nearly sagged with relief. Bradford let out a long breath.

"Outrider?"

" _Her too._ " David White, now. " _I'm not a words man, but that was a good_ -"

" _Shots fired!_ " Da-Xia Liang cried, as a loud _crack_ echoed through comms. " _Outrider_ -"

"Damn it!" Gallant threw his cane, and it soared across the bridge and into the wall with a loud _clang_. "Now what?"

* * *

Elena Dragunova had been raised a Reaper. Her family had become refugees when the alien forces descended on Russia in the aftermath of XCOM's collapse, and exacted unholy vengeance for the Motherland's daring to stand alongside France and Japan as the last of the Council nations. Novosibirsk's abandonment was the tip of the iceberg; entire _cities_ had ceased to exist, and Voronezh was one of them. Elena had been barely six.

But now she was Outrider, born in the darkness, raised in the hinterland of Old Russia by a hunter father and a hard-bitten thief of a mother, having clawed her way up the hard way to a position not so very far from Konstantine Volikov's right hand.

And when she saw something moving in the dark, it only took her a heartbeat to divine its nature and intent.

The Vektor Rifle in her hands was patterned after the old Soviet Dragunov, still available by the truckload in the former republics. Its bullets traveled at 2,800 feet per second, and with less than one percent of that distance between her and Mox' shoulder, there should have been no way for the shot to miss. If she'd wanted him dead, he would be, and long before Liang's frantic warning to her commanders had even left her lips.

Instead, it flicked just a hair shy of ruffling his fur collar. Instead, it whizzed by the Skirmisher's ear...and went directly for the eye of the blue-skinned, purple-eyed, tattooed and marked _thing_ appearing from the air behind him. Elena got a distinct look at its eyes, wide and full of both shock and rage, in the instant before it practically winked out of sight.

" _Outrider_ -" Liang began.

 _Bang!_ Mox's arm cannon went off, and Elena almost winced. But he had turned, and his grapple line shot down the platform, directly at the appearing figure of-

" _No one has_ ever _done that before_ ," snarled the figure, the Figure so much like the one from Elena's nightmares. Its pointed teeth appeared as it snarled angrily, slashing Mox's grapple line from the air with a wicked sword. " _No one shall_ ever _do that again!_ "

"Hey!" Jane Kelly's gun came up, and David White's too. They aimed at the _thing_ -

It vaulted the rail. The _thing_ vaulted the rail backwards, blowing apart into purple light and shards on the way down. Elena swore.

" _What the_ hell _is that?_ " their Commander demanded, in the tone of a man who'd just encountered his day's share of insanity.

"Vox Prima," growled Mox, drawing his bullpup. "The Elders' Assassin. Relentless death that stalks my people: _butcher_ of free Advent."

Elena's teeth set, as she scanned the surround through her scope. "My people face another like her. They are the undying, Advent's _curse_ upon us." She inhaled. "I did not realize there were _more_ of them."

"Neither did I." Mox glanced her way. "We cannot defeat her in battle."

"Not today," Elena agreed. "If there are two, there are perhaps more." She inhaled. "We _must_ unite if we are to have any chance of victory."

Mox nodded. "Agreed."

"This is nice and all," Mendoza snapped, "but how do we kill that thing?"

"We don't." Mox eyed Elena. "I think we have discussed what needs discussing, no?"

"We have." She reached to her ear. "We need to leave. Now."

" _Loud and clear,_ " Bradford replied. " _Firebrand is inbound. Just hang on._ "

" _Unfortunately, the Elders' will is that none survive this day._ " That was the Assassin, and Elena spun in search of her." _I cannot disappoint them_."

"That sounds promising," Jane Kelly muttered, in the instant before the earth shook.

* * *

"What the _hell_ is going on down there?" Gallant cried. He whirled away from the holodisplay, and the overlapping waves rippling out from those alien pods. "Tygan?"

"My word." The doctor set his teeth. "Commander, the sonic dispersal waves emanating from that pod are criss-crossing a massive area."

"Meaning-"

"Sir!" The thermals tech waved for attention, and her face was pale. "We've got a whole wall of heat signatures moving in on Menace's position!"

"Meaning," Gallant resumed, finding he could in fact clutch the rail a little tighter, "that _thing_ just rang the dinner bell for every Lost in the city."

"Meance!" Bradford cried. "You've got incoming, a _lot_ of them!"

* * *

"Firebrand, where the hell are you?" Jane swept up her shotgun as the _pulsing_ , high-pitched whine from the alien pods was practically drowned out by a sudden onrush of shrieking howls. " _Firebrand?_ "

" _Inbound. ETA six minutes. Hang on!_ "

"Six fucking minutes?" Jane screamed. " _Six fucking minutes?_ What, is she stopping for burgers?"

"Can the crap, Kelly!" David ran to the edge of the platform, sticking his machinegun over the edge. "They're going to swarm up the drain pipes and hit the station stairs. Stairs are going to be close and nasty-"

"Contact!" Liang waved for attention. "Left side, a lot of them!"

"More on the right!" An instant later, David fired. Tracers snapped out over the dilapidated streets, and Jane popped to the edge just in time to see the swarming Lost ripped apart by high-powered rounds.

"Watch the stairs!" Mendoza took a knee, taking aim at the station platform westward. "I don't see any yet, but they'll be coming!"

 _Crack! Crack!_ Outrider's rife spoke, and then the _brap-brap-brap_ of Mox' bullpup jumped into the audio fray. Jane took aim at the swarm racing to the south side drain pipes, and she wasted a moment breathing on her frayed nerves.

 _Boom!_ Her shotgun roared, and four of them tumbled. _Clickity-boom! Clickity-boom!_

"Grenade!" David warned. Jane grabbed his wrist.

"Are you insane-"

"They're _already_ coming by the thousands," he spat. "What's a grenade going to do? Draw another ten?" He deliberately pulled his hand loose. "Cover me, Corporal!"

"Stupid..." But Jane couldn't argue with his analysis, so instead she laid buckshot out over the city, working the pump as fast as she could.

 _Thump!_ David's grenade launcher spat its cargo, and the beeping pineapple flew into the Lost's ranks. Jane held her breath, ducking for cover in the instant before-

 _Boom!_

"Coming up on the stairs!" Liang and Mendoza opened fire, and Jane swore. She turned her nearly-empty shotgun on the fresh horde coming up and recklessly disregarding the wet floor signs strewn over the station, even as two XCOM rifles sprayed green blood and pus with every wild shot.

 _Boom!_ Jane added her fire to the mix, screaming as she ripped Lost apart at the joints. Her fear became rage, and she slammed new shots into the breech as quickly as she could.

David's machinegun roared, holding down the left flank by force of will and superior firepower. Mox and Outrider stood on the right, blasting without relent at what Lost attempted to press from that side, and Jane stood against the rush from the station stairs. Mendoza's rifle put searing tracers into the mob from her right, and Liang fired from his, holding until he paused to reload before taking over.

It wasn't enough. Jane's ammunition ran out, and she _knew_ it wasn't enough, just from the sheer might of the swarm. She didn't have that many rounds left-

" _Three minutes_ ," Firebrand chimed in, as a Lost got within two feet of Liang before Outrider turned and shot it.

"Pick up the goddamn pace!" Jane shrieked, before snapping her freshly-reloaded gun to firing position. Before she had even finished aiming, she fired, and Lost went down in a spray as pellets ripped out their knees and shattered their femurs. Dead or alive, there wasn't much anything could do with no legs.

Then _it_ happened, and Jane felt _it_ a second before _it_ did.

"Holy fucking-" Then she was airborne, tumbling across the rail and losing her shotgun somewhere under Mox and Outrider's steady feet. Jane clutched her head. "Jesus Christ-"

" _They fall like wheat_." Then a hand seized her by the collar, and Jane screamed when she came face-to-face with that evil blue pointy-toothed-

She punched her. Unthinkingly, Jane punched the Assassin, and the thing seemed quite surprised. Surprised enough she was distracted.

Surprised enough for Jane's _other_ hand to reach over her shoulder.

" _Ah!_ " the thing stumbled as Jane's sword flashed out, cutting a line through its shoulder. It dropped her, and the Irishwoman fell to her knees, driving the tip of the blade into old wood and using it for a support. She panted, heart racing, before forcing herself to her feet.

" _I respect your bravery_ ," growled the Assassin, drawing from its back a long, wicked blade. It was straight and simple, unadorned but somehow intimidating: exactly what it needed to be, and not a touch more or less.

It was the most frightening weapon Jane had ever seen.

She lunged. Jane swung wide, and the Assassin took a half-step back, moving clear out of the way. Gunfire echoed and Lost screamed all around, as Jane brought her blade back for a stab that would-

 _Clang!_ Now the alien parried, and she spun too. Jane screamed as her sword went the way of her shotgun, and then the creature's elbow cracked into the side of her head and she went after it. She landed hard, rolling across ancient concrete and slamming into a refuse bin so hard it tumbled.

" _Brave or not, you are unskilled_." The Assassin advanced, and Jane pushed herself backward, scrambling for a weapon. " _You will tell me much of XCOM's-_ "

"Oi!" _Blam-blam-blam-blam!_

Jane screamed louder than the Assassin when David's machinegun ripped into her from behind, spraying yellow-tinted blood. It drenched the Irishwoman, but worse than that, the Assassin's momentary howl of pain seemed to be the only symptom she suffered from the barrage.

" _I do not take kindly to assault!_ " She whirled and lunged, and David's gun was empty. Her hand went around his throat, and she drove the Australian down onto his back. " _I accept your self-sacrifice_."

Jane's fingers hit something hard, and she prayed it was what she thought.

Fortunately, it was, and Jane snapped her shotgun up before the Assassin could do more than look her way.

 _Boom!_ One shot wasn't enough for Jane, and despite the shriek she elected to work the pump again. _Clickity-boom! Clickity-boom!_

The thing vanished. It vanished in a flash of purple light, and Jane yelped, scrambling to her feet. She turned in a circle, heedless of the other members of her team battling Lost with guns and wrist blades and fists, waiting for some tell-tale sign of the Assassin's presence.

"I think you drove it off!" David pushed himself up, grabbing his machinegun and setting to reloading. "I guess I owe you now."

"Save it!" Jane unloaded buckshot into a set of Lost looming behind Liang, and they collapsed in tune with her terrified shriek. "Firebrand?"

" _Hang tight. I'll be right there._ "

"Tell me it's been six minutes!" Jane cried, as she fished for more ammunition. "I'm down to my last mag!"

"You and me both," David snapped, before headbutting an angry Lost back down the drainpipe.

" _Menace! Those sonic waves are screwing the hell out of my sensors. I can't see shit on that railway - instruments are going haywire! I_ cannot _land on the line!_ "

"What?" Jane's blood ran cold. "Where the fuck-"

" _There's a bit of a soft spot down by the department store. I'm standing by over the parking lot. Better hurry, I don't know how long until the field picks back up again._ "

"Are you fucking _mental_?" Jane screamed. "That's where the goddamn Lost are _coming from_...we just nearly died holding this bloody position and you want us to go _straight through a fucking army_ -"

"Forget it!" Outrider cried. "We've got to get to the department store before she leaves!"

"I will take point!" Mox shouted. "Kelly, Liang, on me!"

Jane screamed in protest. But she took her shotgun and her last mag, reclaimed her fallen sword, and suborned every ounce of common sense in her body.

She screamed as she charged head-on _into_ the Lost, with an Advent Skirmisher at her flank.

* * *

 _Crack! Crack!_ Two shots meant two kills, at least for Elena. She raced in Mox and Kelly's wake, waving White and Mendoza along as they took care of anyone the Skirmisher's bullpup and the Ranger's shotgun missed. Her own Vektor added shots to the mix whenever one of her companions was close to being overwhelmed.

"Stairs?" Liang demanded, shooting two Lost and vaulting past a third before Mendoza could finish it.

"Forget them!" Mox pointed to the line's edge. "There! Vault the side there!"

"Why?" White cried. His cannon went off, and bullet casings scattered across the line. "There's Lost down there-"

"It is a straight shot down that side street for the department store." Mox' bullpup ripped through the next wave, and as he reloaded, Kelly's shotgun filled in. The Irishwoman's face was white and she trembled more than the ground under the sonic assault, but her courage didn't falter. Elena approved of that. She might have made an adequate Reaper. Mox paused to drive his ripjack into the last Lost between him and the rail, then he waved. "I will lead the way. Cover me and follow!"

"You're out of your mind-" Kelly broke off as Mox jumped. "He's insane!"

"He's _right_ ," Elena heard herself snapping. She jumped a corpse and ran to the rail, taking aim straight down as she saw the flashing of Mox' carbine.

 _Crack! Crack! Crack!_ Then she scavenged for a new clip, shoving it into place as Liang and Mendoza picked up supporting fire.

"Jump!" White urged, and he practically had to shove Kelly over the rail. She dropped, landing in a crouch and rolling to burn momentum. A moment later, the Grenadier joined her, whipping his launcher out and taking aim down the street.

"More behind us!" Liang turned, and Mendoza swore.

"Go!" he cried. "Ladies first!"

"Together!" Liang objected, before slinging herself over the ledge. Elena spun, and her rifle _cracked_ in rapid drumbeat-succession, ripping through a half-dozen of the swarm free to race up the stairs with the team's withdrawal.

"Mendoza, go!" Elena followed her own advice without hesitation, and she actually _was_ an instant faster than the XCOM operative in leaping for the low ground. She landed ankle-deep in Lost intestines, and the Reaper grimaced, struggling to reload on the move. She swore in her native language as she, like her companions before her, realized she was down to one last clip.

"It is not far! Keep up!" Mox' bullpup was the drum beating cadence, and Elena raced in its wake, not even bothering to shoot. Mendoza and Liang stuck with her, and she heard White's cannon and Kelly's shotgun, and ran through the aftereffects of their work in the broken streets. She rounded the next corner, and something like hope tingled in her veins when she saw the department store sign ahead.

"Avenger, this is Outrider!" She put a foot on the hood of a broken-down car, and then Elena shoulder-rolled over it to open ground. "Where the _hell_ 's our exit?"

" _This is as low as I can get her!_ " That was paired with the sudden roar of engines. From the darkened alleyways, XCOM's dropship appeared, bay doors open. It hung overtop of a still truck, and Elena skidded to a halt in the parking lot.

"Go!" she ordered. "I'll cover you!"

"Move!" Mox agreed. He went nowhere, through, and instead stood at her shoulder as the shattered remains of the Lost force they'd ripped through surged from the street, screaming hate.

Elena fired. Mox fired. Their shots slew a dozen in mere seconds, but more came on their heels, heedless for their losses and invigorated by agony. Elena swore as she ran down her ammunition, far too fast for comfort.

 _Crack! Crack!_

"The entire swarm converges upon us," Mox warned, bullpup barking in tune with the vektor shots. "We cannot hold this position very long."

"I only have two shots left," Elena growled. _Crack!_ "One."

"We're aboard!" Mendoza shouted, before his rifle roared. "You're gonna get left behind!"

" _Go!_ "

Elena paused. She shot Mox a disbelieving glance, thankful her helmet hid the shock in her eyes. The Skirmisher might have chuckled.

"I do not intend to die this day," he assured her. "I _will_ follow."

Elena hesitated.

But then she took him at his word, and she scrambled for the truck. She slung her rifle up first, scrambling up the ladder as fast as her hands and feet could carry her. She seized her gun, and as soon as she turned to the Skyranger's drop bay, Jane Kelly and David White reached out, each one seizing one of her arms and pulling her to safety with willing hands.

"Mox!" she cried, leveling her rifle.

"Vox Tala for Ten!" he exclaimed, before turning her way. Lost converged, and his bullpup ripped through them while the XCOM soldiers provided covering fire. Jane Kelly unloaded the last round from her shotgun, then threw it carelessly aside as Firebrand drew her personal sidearm. Kelly caught it one-handed, and the Irishwoman did what she could to even the odds.

Mox raced for the ladder. He reached out for it, and his fingers tightened around metal - in the instant before one of the Lost lunged, wrapping an arm around the Skirmisher's throat-

 _Crack_!

Mox hesitated as the Lost collapsed. Elena hesitated too, not quite believing she'd just wasted her last round on a Skirmisher's life. Their eyes met, and now she thought she wasn't the only one grateful for a helmet to hide her face.

Then Mox hauled himself upward, and he raced for the Skyranger. He reached out, and this time it was Elena who offered _her_ hand-

Purple. Purple light enveloped Mox, and it coalesced into _that_ face and form, and those hateful violet eyes that burned in the dark.

" _Time to return home...traitor_." The Assassin sounded quite sadistically please by that idea. Elena tried to shoot but, her Vektor only _clicked_ -

She vanished. In a flash of purple light, the Assassin vanished, taking the Skirmisher with her.

* * *

 **Author's Note 8: RIP Gaz**

 _Aloha!_

I apologize here, but the Modern Warfare shout-out in this chapter's structure was just too appropriate to pass up, once the thought hit me.

Jane's starting to be quite a bit paranoid. I wonder if that's going to get better or worse? At least she has a team to cover her back...and an Assassin who knows her scent. My, I could do so much with this...I'm sure she'd appreciate you praying that I'll show mercy.

I really enjoyed both playing and writing this mission. I've so far only done one playthrough where I didn't have Lost and Abandoned enabled, and I think I intend to keep it turned on for most future runs. It's a highly enjoyable mission and introduction to the Chosen, and it made for an excellent climactic battle here. Now we'll take some time and lay the rest of the groundwork necessary to get XCOM fully on its feet, and give our characters a chance to breathe.

Until next time, _Vigilo Confido_.


	9. Friends

_Please remember to favorite and follow!_

* * *

 _"If you are going through Hell...keep going."_

 _~Winston Churchill_

* * *

 **Chapter Nine: Friends**

"Gone?"

"Gone," Elena Dragunova repeated. She paced in Commander Gallant's quarters, curling and uncurling her fists, hissing breath through her teeth. The drumbeat of her heart was no solace, and even the relative comfort of the Avenger's confines only served to raise the level of her frustration. "We have to find him."

" _We will, Elena._ " On the comm screen to Gallant's left, Volk raised his hands. " _I am not fond of Skirmishers, but if what you say is true, Pratal Mox' sacrifice ensured the safety of one of my own._ " He looked very serious. " _Reapers have long memories_."

"And so does XCOM. This..." Gallant seemed to hunt for words for a moment, before settling. "This _man_ saved Corporal Kelly, just the same. We all owe him a debt of gratitude. There is no leaving him."

" _My people will begin hunting for information about this_ Assassin _._ " Volk steeped his fingers. " _You say she is like the Hunter, Elena?_ "

"Yes. Easily as dangerous." The Reaper again thought of how quickly she'd moved, and of the moments where she'd been in position to kill or take Kelly or White, while Elena could do nothing to intervene.

"These...things." Gallant paused to rub his chest. Elena didn't bother to hide her searching examination now any more than the first time she'd seen him.

A cripple. A cripple who leaned on a cane and took care to mind a heart that struggled to beat. _This_ was the legend Bradford had spoken of with such abandon for so many years: _this_ was humanity's savior, the one man who could overthrow Advent.

Elena was _not_ impressed.

"What are they?" Gallant continued, in his low, raspy voice. "They're aliens, but not...they're not anything I've ever seen before."

"No one knows for sure," Elena allowed. "We always called the one we know the Chosen, or the Hunter. If there are really two, or three, or more..."

" _Three_."

Elena's eyes snapped to the screen. "Volk?"

" _I...have made preliminary contact with the Templars. I have heard rumors from their lands._ " Volk looked uncomfortable. " _They know of one, as do we and the Skirmishers_."

"You _knew_ this?" Elena demanded. "I thought there was only the one-"

" _The Hunter was and is the only one whose actions threaten Reaper interests. If I'd told our people he was hardly the sole threat, morale would plummet. I couldn't let that happen._ "

Elena turned that over. "I suppose it is logical," she admitted, grudgingly.

"Three." Gallant did _not_ look happy. Rather, he looked overwhelmed. "Three of them...she moved so _fast_ , and cloaked against our sensors...and she can _teleport_..."

" _They are not invincible, Commander_." Volk tilted his head, and Elena knew what he saw. She saw it too, in the way Gallant clutched his chest, and the flare of his nostrils.

The man was _afraid_.

So much for the legendary Commander.

"Right. Right, I guess we'll figure something out." The Commander took a deep breath. "Right." He seemed to draw himself up. "Volk, let me know where we can drop Outrider here to return her to you-"

" _Actually..._ " Volk eyed Elena, and she pondered. On the one hand, returning to her friends and companions and people...

But on the other hand, _Mox_. If XCOM was going after him, she was duty-bound to assist, since she owed her life to the Skirmisher's bravery.

Besides, if their Commander was _this_ man...they would need every Reaper who could provide help.

"I would like to stay, Commander Gallant." Elena saluted. "If Volk would allow it, I think it would serve as a sign of the Reapers' alliance with XCOM. I have many skills that could be beneficial to your operations."

"You..." Gallant took her in for a moment. "Well, if Mendoza and Kelly's after-action reports are to be believed, _that_ 's no lie. And we need every soldier we can press into action lately." He turned to Volk. "Pending your approval, then?"

" _Consider it given_." Volk's lips twitched, but his smile was worn and wan. " _May you together strike fear in the aliens' hearts. Volk out_."

* * *

 _Lost._

 _Screaming Lost, shrieking Lost, tumbling over each other, spittle flying and pus leaking, reaching out with decaying hands-_

Click! Click! _Gun empty. Back pressed against a wall. No weapons. No defenses._

 _No recourse but to scream. She screamed when undead hand seized her, pulling at her and hauling her into the throng, where waiting morbid fingernails would scratch for her eyes and her throat and-_

Jane Kelly woke with a start, curled into a ball and shivering in the Arctic chill. Her throat felt raw, and she wondered if she'd been screaming in her sleep.

But no. No worried Aileen loomed at her bedside like last night, nor a crowd of rookies at the door like the one before that. Jane was alone, and that soothed her in some ways and stoked her in others.

"Stupid... _evil_ monsters..." She shuddered. "Sleep, Jane. Could be a mission alert any time."

She tried. She turned sideways and lay on her back, but all she accomplished was to change the scenery she glared at. In a fit of desperation, Jane threw herself face-down, risking smothering herself in her pillow just for the slimmest chance of rest.

No luck. The Lost loomed when she closed her eyes, and always behind them was that blue-skinned demon, laughing with her twisted voice...

Jane rose. XCOM Operatives slept in their day clothes, always alert for the potential of a mission, and the only concession she'd made to the onrushing night was to remove her shoes. Her bare feet nearly froze on contact with the Avenger's metal planking, but Jane didn't care.

She left her room, and strode through the general living quarters without thinking. Julie Richardson lay passed out on a chair, snoring gently, and Jane wondered why she'd been up late enough to fall asleep out of bed. The redhead was the only one in the common room, though Jane saw Cameron Rogers' door slightly ajar, and heard movement from inside Carlos Mendoza's quarters.

Cold. Cold metal under her soles, and cold air rushing over her face and neck, and cold comfort from the Avenger's secure presence around her. Jane rubbed her hands together, resenting the chill...and realizing that there was nothing she could do about the deeper, harsher cold that infested her.

It wasn't just the Lost. She saw Obsidian now, and James and Irina and Ana Ramirez and Peter Osei. A whole squad's worth of friends, not to mention those she'd lost before even joining James' little Resistance cell.

"Lucky," she muttered. "Damn lucky and nothing less. That's all you are, Jane."

She walked for a long time. Jane didn't know where she was going, or why she was going there...but she knew she had to move. Rest wasn't restful, not anymore. Maybe action would work out some of her tension and her demons.

Or, she supposed, as she found herself before the bar doors, alcohol might.

No one was tending, not at 2:36 in the morning. Jane was alone as she made the transition from the relatively clean corridor walls to the graffiti-stained ones flanking the memorial, as bright overhead light became something dimmer, as the scents of metal and cold richened and became more sultry and alluring.

Jane gave the security camera a wave to acknowledge on whose tab this theft belonged, and then performed it with gusto, plucking a cold bottle of American beer from the cooling unit behind the bar. Fortified water it was, and _barely_ fortified at that, but it was easy and it was convenient. She popped the cap, taking a deep drink to soothe her nerves.

"Figured you'd be by, sooner or later."

"Oh." So Jane wasn't alone. She turned for the far end of the bar, and a figure wreathed in darkness raised his own drink. Jane examined him thoughtfully for a moment. "David?"

"Got it in one." The Australian spent a moment with his bottle, and Jane drifted his way.

"You made it to Corporal," she said, nodding to his new rank insignia. "Congratulations."

"Big whoop. If _you_ managed it, how could I not?" David leaned back. "Nightmare, Kelly?"

"How...how'd you guess?" She twitched, and David laughed.

"I heard you, the other night. Rookies are all nervous."

"I thought...I thought that _thing_ was taking me..." Jane huffed. "It's nothing. I'm fine-"

"Don't act all tough. I've had the same nightmare, Jane." David's eyes were honest, and haunted. "If it hadn't been for you, she _would_ have taken me. So I guess we're even now."

"Well, I can say the same. So I don't think so, no." Jane slowly took a seat, rubbing her eyes with her free hand. "Lost. Lost and these _Chosen_ and..." She drank again. "I'm just a Resistance fighter. This is different from Advent."

"Don't I know it?" David sighed. "Almost a week after Novosibirsk, and here we are. Still torn up about it."

"Central would say..." Jane glanced over her shoulder. "Central would say that as long as we have the Commander..."

David's eyes were cold. "What do _you_ think?"

"I..." Jane's eye twitched. "I'm not so sure."

David slammed his drink down on the bar. Darkness hooded his gaze as he glared down at the wood finish.

"I damn straight wish I could argue up a storm," he finally growled. "I'm not so sure he's the right man for this job either."

Silence. Jane didn't know what to add to that, so she took another sip. Doubt and fear tugged from many sides at once, but at least she knew she wasn't suffering alone.

Maybe that was enough.

* * *

"I take it this was easier than your last procedure, Doctor?"

"Central." Doctor Tygan turned from his computers, nodding first to Bradford, and then to Edward Gallant, stumping along in his XO's wake, trying very hard not to gawk. "Commander."

"So that's it, then?" Gallant couldn't help it, and as he approached the autopsy table and the ruined, ripped-open body of the _thing_ Jane Kelly had impaled with her giant machete, he risked leaning on the adjacent wall and reaching out with his cane. He poked the cadaver two or three times, just on general principles. "It's dead?"

"Very much so," Tygan agreed, which made Gallant frown. "However, the results..." He sighed. "It's best you see for yourself."

"That's promising." Gallant returned his cane to its rightful position, though he kept both hands on it, eyeing the Advent corpse. "That can't be anything but good."

"Have a little faith, sir." Bradford crossed his arms, and Gallant was grateful for his knife and sidearm, in clear view. "Doctor?"

"My autopsy has confirmed the existence of a cranial implant similar in design to that we recovered from Commander Gallant." And Tygan hit a button to prove it, whipping up side-by-side breakdowns of two chips that were similar enough to be related. But Gallant's keen, almost superhuman powers of observation detected the extremely minuscule differences between them, like the fact that the officer's chip had two giant-ass prongs on _one_ side, whereas his chip's two giant-ass prongs had been one on _each_ side. The other part he could only presume was the primary interface. "But there are differences."

"Differences?" Gallant blinked. "What kind of differences?"

"Well..." Tygan worked with his machine for a moment, and complex strings of code appeared behind him. Gallant's eyes watered trying to track anything in the mess. "The data you see here is being pulled directly from the Advent officer's implant. This sequence here-" he highlighted one segment of what Gallant supposed was a new form of Wingdings "-is essentially _you_ , Commander."

"Say what?" he mumbled.

"Well, at least, the tactical information they were processing through your mind. The war games I discussed last time." Tygan brought up _that_ data in a flash, and he showed off the side-by-side strings as if quite personally proud of them. "As you can see, the data is nearly identical."

"And...that means?" Gallant was afraid he could guess, but he hoped he was just a layman who'd misunderstood something.

"They were using you against us," Bradford muttered, which fairly well doused that theory, dealing a boost to his ego and a blow to his general mental state at the same time.

" _Fuck_ ," Gallant whispered, which was about the only thing he could think of. "So...all those hallucinations...dreams I had where I thought we were fighting the war..."

"You must have been leading Advent units in the field," Bradford surmised. "God _damn_ , sir. That's why Advent's been so fiendishly, damnably difficult to get the drop on!"

"Fuck. _Fuck!_ " Gallant's rage spiked, and he threw his cane. It flew across the lab, clattering down with a wild _bang_ on the alloy floor. "How many people have I killed? This alien occupation is all my...all my..." He clutched his heart. "I need...Doctor..."

"Here." Tygan took his arm and gently eased him into a chair. "Have you taken your medication, Commander?"

"You sound like..." Gallant glanced to Bradford for help, and saw the same flash of recognition in his XO's eyes.

"Well, Commander?" he asked, instead of being a loyal underling and backing him up to the hilt. Gallant looked away.

"No."

"Well, then. It's best you take a moment before we proceed." Tygan found another glass of water. "I won't continue until you take care of yourself, sir."

"I could order you," Gallant snapped, though he accepted the drink.

"I wouldn't prefer that," Tygan admitted. "It would pain me to disobey a direct order from my commander."

"Son of a bitch." But Gallant meant it more for whatever foul bastard had built the IED that ruined him, and he did fish out his pills. "We'll have to find more of this stuff sooner or later..."

"Commander." Bradford tapped his shoulder after he'd downed his medicine, and Gallant looked. He grunted appreciatively, then accepted his cane.

"How many did I kill?" he asked, when he was finished. "How many?"

"You weren't and _aren't_ responsible," Bradford snapped. "Don't do this to yourself, Edward."

"There is _some_ good news," Tygan chimed in, before Gallant could tear into the XO. That phrase drew his attention immediately, and the scientist returned to his dissertation. "The Advent Network shows signs of decay. It's likely that removing you, sir, has caused significant damage."

"...network?" Bradford and Gallant asked, in the same breath.

"Ah, yes." Tygan coughed. "What we're seeing here is a _Psionic Network_ \- these implants here are capable of transmitting and receiving an immense amount of data, somehow encoded in a stream of psionic energy."

"Why the hell?" Gallant muttered. " _Why_?"

"My working theory?" Tygan switched the display to a breakdown of Advent units, all connected to an officer. "Advent uses the network to augment the tactical readiness of its troops, as well as disseminate orders from High Command. Observe." He tapped one icon in particular.

"Fuck!" Gallant whacked the Advent officer with his cane when it twitched, spasming across the table for a moment. Bradford caught his shoulder, and the commander gently eased up. "Don't _surprise_ me like that, Tygan! I have a heart condition!"

"My apologies, sir." At least he seemed like he meant it, despite his little smirk. Gallant swore he'd prank the uptight science officer right back sooner or later. "Even in the subject's...diminished condition, the implant continues to affect it. Remarkable."

"And maybe a weakness," Bradford muttered. Gallant's eyes narrowed.

"Doctor?"

"Potentially," Tygan admitted. "I'd need direct access to their network to know for sure."

"Sounds... _easy_..." Gallant's eye twitched. "Why does it all have to be so easy? Like Alexander, I weep for a challenge."

"Be careful what you wish for," Bradford advised, with a little chuckle.

"We'd need an active link." Tygan hesitated. "That would mean hacking a _live_ Advent officer."

"Well..." Gallant sighed. "My yearning has paid off, I suppose."

"It's the best lead we've got," Bradford agreed. "How do we do it, Doctor?"

"I'll consult with Chief Shen," Tygan promised. "I'm sure we can come up with some kind of device that can interface with the officers' implants, given time."

"You do that." Bradford offered his hand. Gallant inhaled deeply, then took it, letting his friend haul him to his feet. "Good work, Doctor."

"Yes. Good work." Gallant made himself nod. "How are the magnetic weapons prototypes coming along?"

"Efficiently," Tygan said. "I'll have something available within the next few weeks."

"Very good." Gallant turned for the door. "Contact me the minute you know anything more."

* * *

 _Thump. Thump_.

"Where are you going?" the raven-haired rookie by the door asked. Julie Richardson hesitated.

"The bar," she lied, glancing the Frenchwoman over from head to toe. Dark clothes, dark hair, dark brown eyes, feet tucked up under her on a sofa that had once belonged to an Advent engineer...

"Oh." The rookie blinked. "It's a little early for that, isn't it?"

"That...just depends on how you look at it." Julie tugged at her collar. "Excuse me."

"Oh. _Au revoir._ " The rookie watched Julie with a little frown, every step it took her to reach the door.

"Right," the redhead mumbled, hurrying down the passageways. "Right, just...just... _walk in_ , and maybe..."

Hallway. Door. Elevator. Before she knew it, Julie was in, and she hit the button for Level Three before she could argue herself out of it. She took a preparatory breath as the doors slid closed-

"Hold the lift!"

"Lift?" she wondered. But she did reach out and block the doors with her arm, and an instant later Corporal Jane Kelly bounded in, nearly bouncing off the far wall.

"Thanks, mate." The Ranger inclined her head, then tapped the button for Level Six. "Three, huh?"

"That's...that's..." Julie coughed. "Yeah. Three."

"What's on Three?" Jane rubbed her chin. "Isn't that the additional lab space? The infirmary?"

"Y...yes..." Julie waited as the elevator finally closed, for keeps. "Yes, those are on Three."

"Wounded friend?" Jane asked. Julie coughed.

"Well, Nunez was a friend to everyone," Julie demurred. Jane frowned.

"I barely knew him." She shrugged, before Julie could panic. "Well, I hope he recovers. Shouldn't he be out of the bay soon?"

"Yes." Julie nearly sagged with relief when the elevator stopped on Three. "That's my stop. You're going to the shooting range, I take it?"

"That's right." Jane nodded as the door slid open. "Meeting a friend."

"You...do well!" Julie backed out of the elevator with her best _no-I'm-not-doing-anything-stupid_ grin. "Shoot well. Get good scores."

"Thanks. I will." Jane looked quite perplexed, and Julie couldn't blame her. But she could be grateful at the turn of fate that led the door to close right then, and the Irishwoman to vanish off on her journey to the range.

Julie let out a long, relieved breath.

"All right," she muttered, hurrying past the door marked _Infirmary_. She made herself walk, _made_ herself keep her eyes down, trying not to look at the two words scribbled on her target door in small print, like a lawyer trying to hide something in a contract.

She reached out, taking the doorknob in hand.

She stood there for a very long time, biting her lip.

 _Don't_ , urged a voice in the back of her head. _Come on, Julie. It's not worth it._

 _I can make a difference._

 _How many people have thought that, and then not?_ Derisive, taunting. _You're only going to bring suffering down on your own head._

Julie grit her teeth. _Then so be it_.

Against every instinct in her body, Julie opened the door.

"Good morning," said the bright-faced man inside, datapad tucked under his arm. "Something happening outside?'

"What?" Julie blinked. "Why would..." She coughed, trailing off as she realized she'd turned the knob _before_ she'd paused. He must have seen it move and then waited patiently for the whole time she was debating her inner demons. "I...um..."

"Do you have a message from the Commander?" the man asked. "Central? Tygan?"

"I...actually..." Julie coughed again, into her elbow. She mumbled.

"What?" He blinked. "I can't hear you."

"I...I wanted to Volunteer," Julie finally murmured. "I know you probably have a waiting list like...ten miles long, but if an opening comes up-"

" _Holy shit!_ " The man literally jumped two feet in the air, and Julie nearly skittered right back the way she'd come. "Sir, _we've got one!_ "

" _What?_ " A bald head popped out from the back of the dark, purple-lit room with its glass containment cell, and he raced to the door. "Did you say someone actually _Volunteered?_ "

"You mean...I'm not late?" Julie stared. "I would have thought everyone would-"

"My dear girl, you're the only non-staff member to walk in here since we came online!" The man fairly seized her hand. "My name is Hiroshi, and I'm the Psi-lab's coordinator. Welcome to the psi-op program!"

* * *

" _She's begun training, sir_ ," Hiroshi said over the intercom. " _Nervous, but that's to be expected. If my equipment is up to snuff, I should have her Gift unlocked within a week._ "

"Understood." For a moment, Commander Gallant stared at the ceiling, contemplating what alternate universe he had fallen into. This was _just_ like his moment of existential confusion after being trucked to Area Fucking Fifty-one in the middle of the night for a meeting about an _alien invasion_.

 _Human beings with mind powers. Unbelievable_. Gallant fought a sudden wave of sadness. _If only Moira was here to see it...she always suspected humanity had the capability to embrace the Elders' Gifts..._

"Keep me informed of her training," Gallant finally continued, trying not to look at the picture of Vahlen that he kept on his desk. He failed, and for a moment he contemplated her and her lab coat, and that little glint of excitement and adventure in her eyes. "I want to know _everything_ she can do."

" _Understood, Commander._ " Hiroshi chuckled giddily. " _I never actually thought_ -"

"Gallant out." He cut the transmission then and there, pulling his communicator out and throwing it aside without a further thought for the psi-coordinator.

He reached out and plucked up that picture, and Gallant traced Vahlen's cheek with his thumb, that curling drumbeat of loss pounding shivers up and down his bones again.

 _There just wasn't enough_ time, he cursed. _There wasn't enough of anything. And now Penny...Shen...Moira..._

There was no one left. No one but Bradford, older and harsher for his experiences, and Gallant himself. The weight of the world hung on his shoulders, and he quivered under the load.

 _Beep! Beep!_

"Oh. Damn." Gallant hunted down his insistent communicator, sticking the thing in his ear with a moment's hesitation. He winced as it _morphed_ , adjusting itself to his shape in a heartbeat. "Gallant."

" _Sir, it's Central._ " He hesitated. " _You've got a secure transmission coming in from the Resistance._ "

"Volk? This _Betos_ character you mentioned?"

" _No, sir. An old friend has finally found out about what happened in Paris. He wants to talk._ "

"An old..." Gallant frowned. "Who?"

" _With respect, sir...it might be best if I just put him through._ "

Gallant growled in the back of his throat, trying very hard not to snap at his XO. "And you're _sure_ that's better than just _telling_ me?"

" _Sir, I don't know that you'll believe me unless you see him_."

Gallant picked up a paperweight and flung it across his office. It hit the far wall with a satisfying _bang_ that _might_ have reverberated a floor down and over into the bridge. "Then you do what you please, Bradford. Not like I can stop you anyway."

" _Trust me, sir. You'll agree when the dust settles_." He didn't sound too apologetic, and Gallant decided next time he needed to throw something heavier. " _I'm forwarding him to your screen._ "

"Fine." Gallant shut the channel, glaring at said screen. "Whoever the _hell_ you turn out to be..."

 _Beep_. It flickered, and then ten security icons appeared, one for every type of encryption the Resistance used. Gallant waited as all ten flashed from unlocked to locked. He waited, clutching his chair arms and taking deep, slow breaths, as the screen flickered out again.

Then...

" _No_ ," he gasped, as orange and blue light appeared...and a single figure cast in shadow.

" _Hello, Commander Gallant_ ," said the Shadow Man, wreathed in darkness with his hands before him as always.

"I don't believe it," Gallant muttered. "I don't believe it!"

" _It is good to see you again, Edward_." He wondered if Shadow Man was smiling. " _I have done all I can in the days since your disappearance to aid the Resistance from inside the Advent Coalition. As of now, this Resistance is somewhat...disorganized_."

"No shit." Gallant ran a hand through his loose hair. "Sir..."

" _There is no need to call me_ sir _, Commander. The chain of command is as much a memory as the Council nations. They have all sworn fealty to the aliens. If we intend to defeat them, we must work quickly and decisively, before it is too late._ "

"Sir?" Gallant jumped as Shadow Man vanished, and data files popped up on his screen. Text ran in a massive stream, and after a slack-jawed moment, the Commander scrambled to accept the download offer popping up on his console.

" _What you are seeing are classified reports of missing civilians around the globe_ ," Shadow Man's voice explained. " _Their numbers are growing._ "

"Damn." Gallant shook his head. "What do we do about it?"

" _We suspect they have been taken to a nearby Advent black site, though its exact location is still unknown._ "

"You want me to shut it down," Gallant surmised. "Don't you?"

" _In as many words: yes._ " Shadow Man reappeared, insofar as he ever _appeared_ from the darkened smog. " _Shut down this black site, Commander, and find out what is happening there. Find the missing civilians, and prepare your forces to strike Advent wherever you can. You must build a Resistance and defeat the aliens._ "

"Sir..." Gallant coughed. "I told you back in 2015 that I wasn't the right man for the job. I'm an even worse pick today."

" _That is not my belief. If any man can turn this war around, it is you, Edward._ " Shadow Man steeped his fingers. " _Even if you do not believe, you are the only man we_ have _. You_ must _, therefore you will._ "

Gallant breathed out. "All right."

 _Beep! Beep!_

"That's Bradford." Gallant touched his comm. "One minute, John-"

" _There is no need._ " Shadow Man nodded. " _I will be in touch. Good Luck, Commander._ "

He vanished, before Gallant had a chance to respond to Shadow Man's beloved catchphrase. The Commander growled.

"Never mind." He switched back to Bradford. "John?"

" _Sir, we've picked up a distress beacon._ _But..._ "

"John?" Gallant rapped his fingers on his desk. " _John?_ "

" _Sir...it's Big Sky_." Bradford sounded like the shocked rush that paralyzed Gallant had just finished having its way with him. " _Big Sky, sir. From the original invasion._ "

* * *

 **Author's Note 9: Psionics**

 _Aloha!_

Some of you will notice how fearful humanity is of psionic powers in this universe. This just seems logical to me - who in their right mind would volunteer? It's not like XCOM: EW, where anyone can unlock their Gift...it's a full class specialization. I would think only the loners, or those who were just... _curious_ about alien abilities, would even consider it. Especially in light of what the Elders do to the human race on general principles, much less with motivation added to the mix.

Add to this: I don't usually use psi-ops all that much. They're one of those classes that I run though a basic cycle with: I don't deploy them until late in the game, after grudgingly getting one because I have no reason not to. Next, I'm wowed and amazed by their capabilities and start using them an awful lot. Next, I swear I'll chain for one next time, not be such a dunderhead dilly-dally...then, I start my next game, and it just seems more important in the early game to get Rangers and Sharpshooters, and that money could be better spent on Resistance Comms or a Proving Ground...and so on and so forth. The cycle starts anew.

Shadow Man has always been what I called the Spokesman/Informant. He was going to have a whole subplot in the original fanfic, and I may well pull from my old notes and transpose some of it into this one. Not to mention, I'm a _huge_ fan of Jon Bailey, his VA. Maybe someday I'll get the pleasure of listening to him voice-act a character of mine, in a game or animated adaptation? Or at least an _Honest Trailer_...

Until then, _Vigilo Confido_.


	10. Skyfall

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* * *

 _"I will not leave South Africa, nor will I surrender. Only through hardship, sacrifice and militant action can freedom be won. The struggle is my life. I will continue fighting for freedom until the end of my days."_

 _~Nelson Mandela_

* * *

 **Chapter Ten: Skyfall**

 _Thump_.

"Avenger, this is Menace." Corporal Carlos Mendoza took a breath of frigid Arctic air, trusting the light beam from his rifle as he did a slow turn. Snow crunched underfoot, and he heard the rest of his team scanning just as well. "Drop zone is clear."

" _Roger, Menace One-five._ " Central sounded composed, at least. " _Move on the beacon_."

"Roger that." Mendoza exhaled, and then he had to wave at the mist floating past his nose. It had _never_ been this cold back in Mexico, and the chill set into his bones and reduced him to shivers, no matter his heavy gloves and sleeves, or even the helmet he'd insisted on taking from the armory. At least it went nicely with the sword over his shoulder.

"Right then, Menace!" Mendoza waved. "Rogers, Liang, you're with me on point. Nunez, you take Richard and cover us from further back."

"Got it." Pablo Nunez checked his sniper rifle, all long and sleek and deadly, then beckoned to his stringer. "Come on, Paris."

"I am from Nice," Sylvie Richard corrected, nervously clutching her own assault weapon. "I am coming."

"Beacon's close on five hundred meters up." Mendoza did what a good leader did, taking the point position entirely for himself. "Stay tight, watch your spacing, and cover your teammates. Could easily be an ambush."

"Right." Fellow corporal Da-Xia Liang, new machinegun in hand, took up position at his flank. "Call out if something needs blown up."

Snow whirled as the strike team advanced, scurrying from cover to cover. They ducked behind trees and fallen logs, guided by the transmitter and the faint glow of light from what looked like campfires. Mendoza gritted his teeth, examining them as best he could from afar.

"Might be a debris trail," Cameron Rogers pointed out. Mendoza nodded.

"Let's not assume. Keep low, stay quiet, and let's get the drop on anyone who's waiting for us.

Snow crunched underfoot. Mendoza kept pausing to wipe his visor clean, and he wondered if the helmet was _really_ all that worth it. At least he didn't have powder in his eyes, like Liang: wrapped in black like a ninja she might have been by choice, but she had more of a zebra thing going on in these conditions.

"Approaching the edge of the trees." Mendoza ducked behind a good, solid one for cover, waiting until Rogers and Liang were both in position. "Nunez?"

" _Covering you._ " He didn't hear the sniper's voice at all, save through his comms piece. That was good. Mendoza took a preparatory breath.

"Go!" He turned out from his tree, companions beside him, and they scanned the open snowfield, lights turning over...

"Oh, God." Liang paused as they revealed a veritable _sea_ of wreckage, twisted and torn up by what must have been energy weapon-fire. Bullet casings lay scattered, glinting like coins in the light. There were footprints human and... _other_...and great slither trails, along with red and yellow stains across the snow.

But that was just the crumb trail, because it was the _hulking_ airplane that drew eyes inexorably, lying broken and burning down the line of rubble, hissing black smoke and sparks.

"Clear," Rogers muttered. Mendoza spent another moment scanning, then lowered his rifle.

"Clear," he agreed. The corporal reached up to his transmitter. "Avenger, we've got no life signs down here. Footprints and marks aren't fully covered up, so whatever happened was recent."

" _Understood, Menace. Move in and look for survivors. Keep your guard up_."

"Right." Mendoza waved. "Come on! Let's..." He sighed. "Let's go into the big dark thing, shall we?"

* * *

"No one?"

"No survivors, Commander. No pilot, just a pair of dead human soldiers on the battlefield. I ordered them buried."

"Good." Gallant nodded. "The least we can do."

"Sir." Bradford looked tired, but also... _energized_. "Mendoza's team _did_ find some unusual equipment."

"Yeah?" Gallant steeped his fingers. "What kind of equipment?"

"It's...all very interesting," Bradford said. "There's a set of hunting axes, Commander. Big, brutal things, but well-suited for throwing. A couple of grenades full of some kind of enhanced liquid nitrogen, capable of freezing foes in an instant. A..." He coughed. "Well, a flintlock pistol and some kind of bizarre crossbow."

"Crossbow." Gallant blinked slowly. "What is this? 1200 AD?"

"Sir, crossbows were used in combat into the 1500s. Despite being phased out by matchlock firearms, they were still used for certain tactical purposes until World War Two, and several special forces and peacekeeping units trained in their use even around the turn of the millennium-"

"John?"

"Sir?"

"Shut up." Gallant rubbed his forehead. "Is there _any_ reason you've brought them to my attention? The grenade, maybe, but an _axe_ , a _crossbow_ and a _flintlock_?"

"Well, sir...they have certain other properties. Things we can't fully explain." Bradford's eyes were so, _so_ alight... "The pistol is sighted in like you wouldn't believe, and its sheer _power_...and the axes throw so well it's like they have AI guidance in them."

"The crossbow?" Gallant frowned. "And where are you going with this? There's more to it than simple _enhanced equipment_."

"The crossbow's projectiles pack a _wallop_ ," Bradford explained. "And someone... _someone_...must have wired some kind of shock cell into the projectiles. Something like the old ARC Throwers, sir: something that stuns aliens on contact."

Bradford froze. "John...have you had Tygan-"

"He gave them a cursory look, sir. Said he had no idea how whoever made these weapons did it. He can make more bolts, and finding ammunition for the flintlock isn't hard, but he just..." Bradford leaned forward. "Sir, it _has_ to be her."

" _Moira_..." Gallant put a hand to his heart. "You're serious?"

"There's no other mind in the world quite like hers. If anyone could rig up equipment like this to bolster her forces, it's Doctor Vahlen."

"Where did that craft come from?" Gallant stood in a flash, and he set to pacing. Well, he tried: his cane was one of the little things he forgot, and he stumbled almost immediately, barely catching himself on his desk.

"Sir!" Bradford caught his arm, and Gallant shoved.

"Leave me alone! I can stand up by my goddamn self!" He tried and he failed, but at least he collapsed back into his chair. "Can you trace the Skyranger, John?"

"Sir...given time, yes-"

"Do it," Gallant snapped. "Put everything else on the back burner-"

 _Beep! Beep!_

"What?" Gallant snapped into his earpiece. "This had better be important."

" _Sir, I've managed to decrypt the transmission from...from Dad._ " Shen sounded a little hesitant, but she didn't yield. " _It's not far. A few hours' flight and we can be at the origin point._ "

"Not now!"

"Sir." Bradford waved for attention. "It'll probably take a few days to run our tracking algorithms anyway. We can't put the war on hold."

"Says who?" Gallant hissed. "I'm _finding_ her, John. _Nothing_ else matters!"

"And I'm just as determined as you. We'll figure out where she is and pull her out of there." Bradford raised a hand, and his animal trainer manner just stoked Gallant's anger a little more. "But we need to find out how whoever this is could access Rov-R, and what they want from us. It won't slow us down at all."

Gallant's eye twitched. He was red, and hot, and searing from the inside out with need and fury and desperate desire...but John was right. John was right, and Gallant knew it.

He breathed, long and slow. Then his hand rose to his communicator.

"Shen?"

" _Commander?_ " What she'd been doing during the debate, he didn't know. Gallant hoped she hadn't heard.

"Get those coordinates to the bridge."

" _Yes, Commander._ " She hesitated, but clearly decided now was a bad time to press her luck. " _I'll get right on that._ "

"Good." Gallant cut her off, returning his attention to Bradford. "Get us to that origin point, John. I want to know _everything_."

"Yes, sir-"

"And John!" Gallant's glare sharpened. "If you find out _anything_ more about Vahlen, you tell me. You don't pass _Go_ , you don't collect two hundred dollars...hell! You don't _piss_ before telling me. You wake me up in the middle of the goddamn night if that's the way it is. Understood?"

"Of course, sir." Bradford saluted. "Crystal clear, sir."

"Good. Now get out of my face." Gallant returned to his computer. "I need to pick out a team."

* * *

She appeared in light.

It was purple light, violet light... _holy_ light, that bore her from her place of meditation on the will of the gods, and she acquiesced to its flow. In mere instants, she vanished from her calming cairn, and then she was...

 _Elsewhere_.

It was dark, for a fleeting instant. Here it was dark and still, and the great towering statues and sigils were the only company she could sense. Here was the heart of all that was and was meant to be, and for just a moment...it was all she could have wanted.

Then, as happened every time she truly felt peace, came her brothers.

They descended, borne on the violet energy. She felt their arrival, _felt_ their disturbances. She heard the whine of power bringing them to Center, and she felt the hot rush of wind that accompanied the surge. She closed her eyes, hunting for meditative peace.

All was silent, save for gentle footsteps.

 _Click._

" _Oh_... _it would be so_...easy..."

That voice. That voice was her brother's, and she snapped her head up as she heard its foul ring. She beheld a long rifle, set with a powerful scope, and her eyes only narrowed as it pointed directly at her forehead.

She moved. She flowed with the energy of the Elders, and in an instant she faded into the air. Her brother didn't see her, nor did he feel her presence...

Not until the instant the Assassin put her small blade to the Hunter's neck from behind.

" _Well..._ " She relished his twitch, his quiver, his moment of panic. Cool and collected her brother might be, but she had the upper hand here, and for a moment she took great pleasure in that. " _Good to see you, sister_."

" _Miscreants_." Oh, there _he_ was: eldest of three, the _spoilsport_ , the Warlock: he who fancied himself heir to the gods themselves. " _Restrain yourselves, lest you be..._ " A smile cracked his face as he drew on his power, casting purple light that tinted his flowing white hair and red bracers. " _...restrained_."

The Hunter took aim. The Assassin caught his rifle, before he had a chance to shoot.

" _No!_ " she cried. She turned between her brothers. " _The three of us, called together as one?_ " The Assassin scoffed. " _Something has changed_."

" _On that, we agree_." The Warlock raised his hands, and the Assassin rolled her eyes. So dramatic! " _Our masters have need of us once more._ "

" _Sounds to me_ ," said the Hunter, slinging his rifle over his back, smirking under his dark hood, " _like they're_ afraid _._ "

The Warlock spun, even as the Assassin sighed. Rage flashed in his eyes, and it stiffened his tone, cracking through to the surface with every shouted syllable. " _You dare defile this place with your wretched tongue?_ "

" _Oh...I_ dare," the Hunter agreed, still smirking. " _What are you going to do about it?_ "

The Warlock raised his arms, glowing with power. The Hunter reached for his pistol, and the Assassin felt compelled to put a hand on her sword-hilt, bracing to again battle her siblings-

 _Boom!_

That was the light. The _light_ , light sent by the gods, as a beacon. The Assassin fell to one knee in supplication, as did her never-sufficiently-damned siblings.

" _Our children_ ," said _She_ , foremost of the Gods, as She appeared in the light in Her glorious form. " _Each of you possess Our wisdom. Each of you possess Our strength. Of all Our children, you are truly blessed._ "

The Assassin took the praise, and took it with pride. It wasn't directed for her brothers. She _knew_ that, deep in her heart, whatever they might wrongly have suspected. _She_ was foremost among three.

" _Your charge was a simple one: the subjugation of all those who would see our grand design falter_." Images appeared in the glow: images of war and of battle, of traitors punished as they deserved. She continued, and the Assassin closed her eyes to bask in her pride. " _We have been pleased._

" _Until now._ "

 _What?_ The Assassin didn't dare voice the protest. She didn't _dare_ interrupt Her, not when there was anger in Her tone. She waited for explanation, wincing.

" _Our greatest weapon was stolen from us, while our strongest did_ nothing!" Oh, She was angry. Flashes appeared of _him_ , the Commander, Gallant himself, and the Assassin finally understood. " _We are disappointed_."

" _Oh_ ," muttered the Hunter. " _Thought_ you _were the strongest_."

The Assassin winced...in the instant before Her face split with orange hate, and power _struck_ from On High, smiting her brother where he knelt with boiling energy.

" _Arrogance!_ " shrieked She. " _You have walked among the humans too long! You have been corrupted!_ You can be reclaimed!"

The Warlock smirked. The Assassin couldn't help but revel in seeing her oh-so-arrogant brother _laid low_ for what he was before Her and the Elders, made to crawl like an insect across the floor...

It stopped. The light stopped, and the Hunter abruptly could rise to his knees, gasping and clutching his burnt back.

The Assassin confessed to disappointment.

" _Yet, you may perhaps also...be redeemed_ ," She proclaimed. " _Perhaps you may_ all _be redeemed_."

Hope. Hope flared in the Assassin's heart, and she waited for explanation and Verdict.

" _A greater battle lies ahead_ ," She promised, and the Assassin winced at the sights stuck now into her head. " _Our time on this world draws to a close. Yet, we need not abandon it completely at our departure_."

Oh. Was She going where the Assassin thought She was going? She trembled.

" _Surely_ one _among you is ready,_ " She indeed posited, " _to claim this world as their own_."

 _I am!_ the Assassin wanted to cry. But she held silent, not fearful, but respectful. Not at all afraid.

" _Return what was lost to us!_ " She ordered. " _Let all who oppose our will suffer and burn!_ " Light flashed in her face, and her glowing robes flickered. " _To the one who succeeds: our everlasting favor. To the ones who fail..._ "

 _Boom!_ The explosion of Elder power across the room, pouring up from their great ceremonial torches...left nothing to the imagination.

" _You are the Chosen_ ," She finished. " _You_ will not _fail us._

" _Now go!_ "

 _Boom!_ In a flash of light, the Assassin was gone...but as she flew in the tower of the gods' own energy, she prepared.

It was time to go to war.

* * *

" _Madame_ Moreau?"

Evangeline rose from her little black seat in the Paris Gene Therapy Clinic, adjusting her purse strap. She pulled out her datapad with her confirmation number, hurrying for the desk.

"I still don't know that this is wise," Charlotte muttered from her side. Evangeline rolled her eyes.

"I've been waiting to make my way to one of these places for _years_ , Charley. What's the down-side? An hour or two of work, and I can see as good as you."

"Perhaps." Charlotte brushed back her golden hair, looking around the white and red interior. "Only if those terrorists don't-"

"Don't be so fearful. Advent wouldn't let them come into the city centers." Evangeline hesitated, thinking of the bombed-out shell this building had been, not so long ago. "...again."

"Encouraging." But Charlotte fell silent then, though her expression remained worried. Evangeline turned away from her best friend, hoping that would remain the end of it even after business was concluded here.

" _Bon matin_ ," she said, as she reached the clerk's desk. She set her datapad on the counter. "Evangeline Moreau."

He took her pad, examining her number. "Address?" He nodded when she supplied it, and they quickly went through the rest of the security questions. Finally, he seemed satisfied. "And who is this with you?"

"Charlotte Moineau," the blonde explained. "She's entitled to bring someone else to observe, isn't she?"

"That is the policy," the clerk agreed, and Evangeline thought it was a masterstroke. What better way to spread the word of the Gene Therapy Clinics and the Elders' gifts than to let anyone willing to try bring someone else who might be persuaded by what they saw? Maybe she was only human, but Evangeline liked thinking that she saw a bit of the Elders' grand design.

"Very well." The clerk handed her datapad back, after asking Charlotte the same security questions. "Room Seven, just down this hall. The technicians will be in shortly for your consultation and medical screening."

"Of course." Evangeline smiled. " _Merci_."

"Only together can we build a better tomorrow." The clerk waved her off, and happily she started for the door, waiting until the lock flashed green.

"So we just finished waiting out here," Charlotte muttered, "and now we can wait in a different room?"

"For a consultation," Evangeline agreed. "And my checkup. And after they process the results..."

"You'll be called back." Charlotte eyed her, as they started down the white-carpeted hall with red trim on the walls. Advent symbols hung between doors, and Evangeline counted, reading the numbers in passing. "There's no guarantee they'll even fix your eyes."

"They will," Evangeline assured her, optimistic and cheerful. She chuckled as she came to Room Seven. "Here we are."

"What if they find something else?" Charlotte wondered. "Something _worse_ that's wrong with you?"

"Then they fix me." Evangeline shrugged, hitting the _open_ button and beholding the glory of a medical room, all scanning machines and glowing lights. She bounced on the balls of her feet, giddy like a schoolgirl as she thought of the wonder to come. "I mean, what else is there for them to _do_ with me?"

* * *

" _Mission Alert! Mission Alert!_ "

"That _stupid_ klaxon..." Jane Kelly checked her shotgun. "Aileen?"

"I'm ready." The Specialist patted her GREMLIN affectionately. "Nessie's ready too."

"You did _not_..." Jane sighed. "Whatever."

"Corporal." That was Elena Dragunova, striding through the armory with her trench coat whirling in her wake. That Vektor Rifle glinted in the low light, and Jane wished she could try her hand with it.

"Corporal," she replied instead. "You sure you're up for this?"

"I am the night," Elena growled. "I am the best scout you could possibly have."

"Right." Jane took her shotgun, and she turned for the lift to Firebrand. "You're not hoping there's data on Mox here, are you?"

"It would be convenient." The Reaper followed Jane without qualm. "Miss Quinn."

"Miss...Outrider. Ma'am." Aileen was at least _somewhat_ intimidated by the Russian, and that seemed logical to Jane. No one really seemed comfortable with Elena, not with the way she gave them harsh, searching looks, or the way she snapped at them for the slightest conversational misstep.

"Ladies." Mendoza greeted them at the lift, rifle at the ready. "Looking good!"

"Shut up, Mendoza." Jane mimed with her fist. "David."

"Jane." The Grenadier glanced to the rest of the team. "Just us?"

"Expecting someone else?" Jane hurried into the lift. "Come on."

"Any intel on the drop?" David asked, as the team crowded in with her. "Some kind of transmission, right?"

"Yeah," Jane admitted. "We've got to-"

"Jane!" Aileen cried. "Your sword!"

"My...oh, _come on_." Jane sighed. She pushed past Mendoza and Aileen, exiting the lift. "Must have left it in my room. Let me fetch it, and I'll catch you up. Get set and tell Firebrand why I'm late."

"All right." Mendoza eyed her. "You can't be forgetting your sword, Jane: it's too useful in close quarters."

"That's why I have a shotgun," she snapped. "Unlike you, sticking to your crappy rifle."

"It's better for distance," Mendoza protested. "And distance is what I'll need if I aim to..."

"To what?" Aileen asked. Mendoza's face blanked.

"Never mind. Let's do this mission, shall we?"

"...yes," Jane finally allowed. "Let's. I'll be right there." Cursing Mendoza _and_ her stupid sword, she turned and hurried out of the armory.

* * *

"Team's been delayed, Commander." Bradford scowled. "Kelly forgot her sword."

"We are _ten minutes' flight_ from these coordinates," Gallant snapped, "and we're in a fucking _holding pattern_ because Kelly can't be bothered to back her goddamn kit?" His eye twitched. "Put her on latrine duty."

"Consider it done, Commander." Bradford was impassive, but Gallant hoped that would dissuade any future absent-minded forgetting of combat gear. The bridge staff would spread the word about how quickly he meted out Kelly's fate.

"Sir!"

"What now?" Gallant turned on his heel. "Busy here, Shen-"

"I want to go along!" That wasn't what Gallant expected, but when he saw the chief engineer in full kit and armor, with Rov-R hovering threateningly over her shoulder...maybe he should have seen this coming.

"...what?" He blinked. "No!"

"Sir, whatever's down there had the technical aptitude to breach our systems. It's possible we're dealing with some kind of Advent hacking cell." Shen skidded to a halt at the base of his raised observation podium. "Sir, there's also the fact that it had _Dad's_ ID signature, and came through on Rov-R...I need to go. I need to see this through."

"Shen..." Bradford coughed. "Shen, I promised your father I'd look after you. I can't let you-"

"I'll be careful," she promised. "I'm not a bad shot, and I'll have Corporal Kelly and her team to protect me. I'll stay out of the thick of any firefights."

"I can't allow this," Bradford insisted. "Shen-"

"The decision's not yours." Shen turned to Gallant. "Commander?"

"I..." Gallant clutched the rail. "I don't think this is a good idea." Oh, now _that_ was alarming. He'd already gone from _no_ to _I don't think_...that was an _enormous_ step toward the Y-word.

"I have a strong feeling about this." Shen did look very insistent... "If something my dad made is down there, they'll _need_ me to work it." She swallowed. "Sir..."

Vahlen flashed in his mind, and Shen Senior, and young Bradford and _Penny Ferguson_...

 _She'd have gone if it was me_ , Gallant finally decided. _Penny would have been first in line, because we were the next best thing to family. I can't...I_ can't _take that away from Shen, not if I want Bradford to listen to me when it comes time to..._

Gallant exhaled.

"Be careful," he finally ordered. "If you die, Shen..." He coughed, aware of the bridge eyes on him. "Well. If you die, I'm not forwarding your pay to next of kin."

"I get paid?" She seemed awfully surprised. "Rov-R, turn on recording mode. Would you say that again, sir?"

"Get out of here." Gallant waved. "You have until Corporal Kelly finds her sword to get a rifle and get your ass on Firebrand. If you're not there by the time Kelly arrives, she's leaving without you."

"So, there's no rush," Bradford surmised. "You've got all damn day."

Gratitude shone in Shen's eyes. She turned for the door, bolting for the armory with GREMLIN floating obediently in her wake. "Thank you, sir!"

Gallant watched her go...and prayed he hadn't just made a horrible mistake.

* * *

 **Author's Note 10: Divinity**

The treatment of the Elders as divine figures is an interesting addition to the XCOM universe. I didn't at all get that vibe from XCOM: EW, and I only see the concepts for it in the XCOM 2 base version in hindsight. However, I think it fleshes out a lot more about the aliens, and how Advent itself works.

I'm really excited to learn " _what lies ahead_." It's hard to write these things without just transcribing exactly what I see, since I know the same as any of you what Jake Solomon and the others are foreshadowing. I've been curious since the ending of my first play of XCOM:EU, and what's come in EW and XCOM 2 has only made things worse.

I know it's an old joke by now, but that final level in XCOM: EW was _lame_. I understand the concept, but the only challenging part was the 2 Sectopods, even on Impossible difficulty...and with a powerful Volunteer and a Mimetic Skin sniper, even that was fairly simple. I don't even bother to play the final level any more, unless I particularly want to watch the cutscene. I mean, I have 100% of the achievements, and the time I beat it with base tech only somewhat ruined the difficulty...that was a fun self-imposed challenge. I should do it again.

Unless something major went wrong, I should have landed back home earlier today. Since I'm writing this well in advance of the trip, I have no idea how well or poorly it's gone, but hopefully there were no chryssalids. If I was unable to make the regular update schedule, I will now be able to resume it.

Until next time, _Vigilo Confido_.


	11. The Lost Tower

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* * *

 _"I believe that at the end of the century the use of words and general educated opinion will have altered so much that one will be able to speak of machines thinking without expecting to be contradicted."_

 _~Alan Turing_

* * *

 **Chapter Eleven: The Lost Tower**

" _Two minutes,_ " Firebrand warned. Jane Kelly took a breath.

"All right," she said, reaching up to pull herself to her feet. "We don't know what we're going to find down wherever this is. Do we, Chief?"

"Just the source of this transmission." Shen checked her rifle over, and Jane at least appreciated that she seemed to know what she was doing with it.

Of course they had a VIP with them. _Of bloody course_. Because this mystery insertion wasn't worrisome enough as it was. Jane bristled at the unfairness of her life.

At least she had Aileen, and at least she had David. Mendoza, the jury was out on in terms of effectiveness...but then there was Elena, and the Reaper's quiet, arms-folded, glowering presence in the rear of the drop bay was immensely comforting to a corporal worried about her op doing far more damage to the Resistance than she could have ever imagined, all because Shen wanted to get out of her garage for a stroll.

"Right. This transmission." Jane took a deep breath. "Everyone stay tight. No one get separated from the group. And for God's sake, don't do stupid things while you're down there! If there's Advent, or...or _Lost_..." She trailed off.

"The odds of that are low." Shen rose. "Lost aren't smart enough to operate computer systems sophisticated enough to mimic Dad's signals."

"How do you know?" Jane wondered.

" _Ninety seconds_."

"What's the plan?" Aileen asked, waving to Nessie as she stood up. The GREMLIN buzzed over her shoulder like a football-sized hummingbird, which was disconcerting at the best of times.

And somehow, Rov-R was _even worse_.

"We'll have to decide points of entry when we see what kind of facility we're talking about," Jane decided. "If they've got transmission equipment like this, there's no way it's some imbecile in a low-grav van." She glanced to her squadmates. "Aileen, David, you're with me. Mendoza, Outrider, I want you holding the back, and keeping Chief Shen out of trouble."

"Excuse me?" The engineer looked quite off-put by that. "I know how to shoot. I survived on my own well enough before coming to the _Avenger_ -"

"Yeah, but you're my team's bloody responsibility," Jane snapped. "So if I say you need nursemaids, _Lily_ , you need bloody nursemaids."

" _Forty seconds._ "Firebrand paused. " _Got a real nice view of the place coming up. Some kind of tower_."

"I'm hardly a deadweight," Shen snapped. She glared, and Jane glared right back.

"I sure as hell hope not." The Irishwoman's eye twitched. "So you'll _stay in the rear_ with Mendoza and Outrider until I damn well say otherwise."

"Listen," Mendoza started, raising his hands while Elena rolled her eyes. " _Amigas_ -"

"I don't have to answer to you." Shen loomed, which amused Jane since she was a little bit taller than her would-be intimidator. "You're well below me on the food chain... _corporal_."

"Yeah?" Jane's lip curled as she turned for the door. "On the _Avenger_ , maybe. You're on my team and my op now, wrench wench."

"Call me _wench_ to my face," Shen ordered. Jane paused.

"Ask nicely and maybe I-"

" _Ladies!_ " Firebrand made sure to chime the drop warning rather more loudly than usual. " _Don't make me come back there, now._ " She paused, as if to let that sink in. " _Facility's coming up on the right. Drop in ten_."

"Roger that, Firebrand." David caught Jane's shoulder when she half-turned for the irritating engineer. "Leave it, Jane."

"Don't touch me!" She ripped her arm free, but with David between her and Shen, and Aileen and Mendoza hurriedly taking place at the opening end of the drop bay, Jane decided the big Australian might have a point. Grudgingly, she returned her attention to the deployment lines, falling from their overhead housing toward the ground below. She spared a glance for their destination-

"... _madre de dios_ ," Mendoza whispered. Jane stared.

"You can say that again," she allowed, as she beheld a tower that must have been a hundred stories high, rising from the smog in a sheltered valley. It glistened red and gold in the morning light, and it seemed to _thrum_ with energy, the air around its metal sheen shimmering with heat haze. "You can say that _all day_."

* * *

"How did _no one_ notice this place?" Commander Edward Gallant demanded, glaring at the representation of the facility in his holodisplay. "It's bigger than a muton's-"

"It's nestled between those mountains," Bradford pointed out. "It could have some kind of passive cloaking system as well. Something that the transmission disrupted."

"Or," Doctor Tygan suggested, from a position at Central's side, "it could be related to _that_."

"To what?" Gallant waited while the science officer pointed. He frowned. "That's an..."

"Menace, this is Central." Bradford inhaled. "I don't know if you saw it, but there's an Advent symbol on the tower's south face. Proceed with caution."

" _Roger that, Central_." Firebrand left it there, and Gallant supposed she was concentrating as she brought the dropship into position over a large platform low on the tower. He waited as the blinking lights showing each member of the team slid out from the Skyranger's bay, fanning out as soon as their boots hit cracked white pavement.

"Right, then." Gallant leaned forward. "Let's see what we have to work with."

* * *

"This place is...old." Carlos Mendoza led the approach, rifle up and ready. He eyed rust-crusted railings and moss-breached pavement, smelling musty oil and dust in the air a little stronger with every step. "Very old."

"It looks nice," Chief Shen mused, as she followed him through what might at one time have been a garden. Plants still lived here, but they'd spread beyond their natural habitat, and now pried their way into the hard ground and over railings that now served as vine racks. "It's peaceful."

"For now." Elena Dragunova checked her Vektor. "The stairs are up ahead. It looks like there's a door and some windows up top."

"I see." Jane waved to Aileen and David, not sparing Shen or Mendoza a glance. "Come on. We'll push in and see what we find."

"Got it." Mendoza waited for the Grenadier, Specialist and Ranger to push past him onto the stairs. He checked his rifle, reaching up to check that he still had his sword hanging comfortably over his shoulder.

"Jerk," Shen muttered, and Mendoza pretended both that he hadn't heard and he hadn't noticed her glaring at the back of Jane's head. Instead, he took up position in David's wake, hurrying up the stairs and hoping the VIP didn't do anything _too_ stupid. They hardly needed extra complications, not when they barely knew what they were getting into to start with.

"I wonder if we'll see that Chosen again," he mused. "Here's hoping not."

"She is dangerous, but not as frightening as the Hunter who stalks my kind." Elena took position in the rear, trailing Shen and glancing around with yellow-glowing eyes. "He can strike you dead from two thousand meters, before you even know he's there."

"Can he?" Interest sparked, paired with cold anger. "Does he use a mag-rifle, by any chance?"

Elena paused. " _Da_. Why?"

Mendoza clutched his rifle tightly. "No reason. Just curious." He picked up the pace, taking the stairs two at a time as he followed the point team.

"No life signs," Aileen reported after a moment, in her thick Sligo brogue. "The place seems dark."

"Door ahead," David chimed in. "I'll-"

"Let me." Jane approached, and Mendoza thought there was a little smirk tugging at the corners of her mouth as she picked up her foot and kicked the door off its hinges. It flew with a _bang_ , crashing wide open and hanging forlornly in the opening for a moment before gravity won a battle with rusted metal, finally snapping the housing for its last hinge.

"Move." Then the Ranger went in, with her two partners on her heels. Mendoza paused by the door, inhaling an even deeper whiff of musty oil.

"From the looks of it...we're the first people to come here in a long time." Shen looked unhappy, regarding the cracked tiles and pavement, and the encroaching moss wrapped over the railings and up the tower's flanks. "Why would Advent just abandon this place?"

"Advent doesn't abandon anything," Elena growled. She examined the door through her scope for a moment. "No heat signatures inside. Everything's cold."

"Then let's see what kind of trouble the others have gotten into," Mendoza suggested. He led the way into the breach, Shen and Elena coming in at his flanks.

* * *

 _That was excessive_ , it thought. _The door was_ unlocked _._

It observed as the operatives entered through the new opening, pushing through the dimly-lit facility. It eagerly awaited the moment where the first of them would bang their ankle on something hidden in the gloom, even pausing to calculate the exact probability it would happen within the next few minutes. People banging their shins on things seemed amusing.

It paused to consider faces. It ran them through its database, and quickly identified Jane Kelly the Resistance operative, Carlos Mendoza, the one who got away...that was David White, the blandest, most unremarkable soldier XCOM could have found. And Aileen Quinn, wanted on half the Advent network, with good reason. The fifth member of the team, it couldn't place, and that annoyed it. Reapers were _so_ difficult to deal with.

But then there was Number Six, and if it had had a face, it would have smiled.

* * *

"Well..." Mendoza blinked, taking in the dim facility. "This place is massive."

"You couldn't tell from the outside?" David examined the towering cranes and dormant belts, pushed in side-by-side with half-finished projects hanging from them. "We've got some kind of MECs here."

"Maybe," Jane hedged. "Under all that rust...I think they're MECs, but maybe not."

" _Probably the facility's original defensive complement_ ," Central guessed. " _Are they active?_ "

"Not at the moment." Mendoza eyed one suspiciously, keeping his gun trained on it. "Their armor looks thin enough we could breach it anyway."

"This looks like an assembly plant," Aileen mused, examining the dim floor and the dust-coated machines.

"Probably where Advent's been getting their robots." Jane nodded. "It's all automated. Pretty advanced stuff."

"Sure...for about twenty years ago." Shen scoffed. "If this was where Advent's been building their MECs, they'd have run out long ago."

"Well, who asked you?" Jane snapped. Mendoza sighed.

" _Amigas_..."

" _And so the prodigal child returns._ " _Lights_ flashed on with that one sentence, stinging the Ranger's eyes hard enough he covered them with an arm. The team seemed in little better shape, even Shen, who ducked behind a pillar as flourescent bulbs in the ceiling flared to life, illuminating every corner of the production floor. " _I see Father's pride in your abilities was not_ entirely _unfounded._ " The voice echoed from the ceiling and the walls, and when Mendoza spun with gun upraised, he found no convenient target. The voice seemed coolly amused. " _I'm so glad you could join me_."

* * *

"What the _hell_ was that?" Gallant demanded.

"Working on it!" Bradford leaned over one of the techs' panels. "Get me scanners. Who's down there?"

"Sir, we're trying...we can't get a fix." The tech worked feverishly on his keyboard for a moment. "It's like he's...he's _bouncing_ across the entire facility!"

"How is that possible?" Gallant demanded. "Encryption?"

"Maybe," Tygan allowed. "Or maybe a teleporting psionic."

"Teleporting psionics." Gallant sighed. " _Teleporting psionics_."

"Commander?" Tygan frowned.

"Nothing." Gallant's eye twitched. "I just miss the days where my biggest concerns were little gray bug aliens, that's all."

"Sir!" Another tech waved for Gallant's attention, and Bradford turned as well. "Commander, power just spiked across the entire facility!"

" _Avenger, the assembly floor just came online!_ " Aileen Quinn reported. " _Machinery is moving_ -" She broke off, grunting, and Gallant watched her icon shift to the side, sliding across the floor for a good ten feet.

" _Control arm_ ," Elena reported a moment later. " _She's fine_."

"Power's only increasing," the tech reported. "And...I've got movement! _Lots_ of movement!"

Gallant clenched his teeth. "It's a _trap_."

* * *

" _Menace, this is Avenger!_ " Central's voice intensified. " _Get out of there!_ Now!"

"Roger that, Avenger!" Jane turned for the door. "Come on! It's not worth-"

" _I'm afraid I cannot let you do that_ ," the ceiling warned. Jane ignored it, sprinting for the opening-

 _Whoosh!_

Dark metal rose, and Jane skidded to a halt as it locked into place with the ceiling above the doorway, forming a solid barrier that cut off her view of the outside. The blockage covered the windows, covered the doorway...

"Blast shield," Shen observed, as Jane rammed her shoulder into it. "You're wasting your time. Advent-level construction won't come down easily, even left without maintenance."

"Then what the hell do _you_ suggest we do, genius?" Jane demanded. She turned and looked over the room, with its wildly moving conveyor belts and swinging assembly arms. "We're trapped in here-"

"It looks like there's a service elevator at the other end." Shen pointed, and Jane stared in stupefied incomprehension.

"Across the _sea of wild murder machines_ -"

"I think I can seize control of the elevator and we can ride it up further into the facility," Shen finished. Jane's jaw hung open.

"You want...you want to go _further in_ -"

"We have to find the source of the transmission. The mission hasn't changed." She glared. "And besides, we can evac from the roof if we go up high enough."

"Or," Jane suggested, "David here can blow a goddamn hole in that blast shield with his _grenade launcher_ -"

"Advent armor won't come down to a fragmentation warhead," Shen snapped. "How thick _are_ you, really?"

" _Amigas_..." Mendoza was still playing peacemaker. Jane supposed she couldn't take issue with that, even as she resigned herself to...to...funny. She didn't exactly know what the punishment for punching the chief engineer in the face was off the top of her head.

 _So this is for science above all_ -

" _Contact!_ " Elena's Vektor roared, and all thoughts of justice for Lily Shen's arrogance abruptly vanished. "Those MECs are _moving_!"

"What?" Jane spun...and the Reaper was right. She was _so_ right, because almost a _dozen_ derelict MECs twitched before Jane's eyes, taking faltering steps and raising miniguns that might or might not fire as advertised. Their eyes burned red, and their armor was rusted and brown but no less thick for it.

"Open fire!" Aileen cried, and then her rifle erupted. Her shots skated off their armor in a flash of sparks, but when Mendoza joined in the barrage, their target succumbed under the pressure. David's own minigun roared, deafening Jane as the reports echoed around the assembly floor, but he ripped one of the derelicts to shreds for it. Elena's rifle cracked in the mess, but her shots could only blow out ocular sensors and hit joints...which she did with abandon, reducing her targets to blinded, shambling wrecks that could barely take proper aim.

 _Boom!_ Jane's shotgun roared, and she hurled buckshot through rusted plating. Internal circuitry hissed and exploded, and the thing stumbled, crashing down on its hands and knee while oil leaked. Valiantly, it tried to rise, and the Ranger hurried to work the pump. _Clickity-boom!_

" _My apologies_ ," the ceiling continued, its voice echoing over the raging roar of gunfire. " _We don't get much in the way of maintenance out here. Still..._ " it might have chuckled. " _I believe they will be more than sufficient for the task at hand._ "

"What task?" Jane cried. She blasted another MEC. " _Murdering_ us all?"

"Jane!" Aileen's rifle paused as she ducked to reload. Heavy bullets flew in from a line of firing MECs, and the Ranger had to cover her head beside her friend. Aileen caught her arm. "Jane, what the hell are we doing?"

" _We're getting some unusual readings from the levels above you_ ," Central chimed in. " _Whoever this is, I'm betting that's where you'll find him_."

" _Above_ us-"

"You know what we have to do!" Shen snapped, before popping up to fire. Jane swore at the engineer's suicidal bravery, before rising to add her shotgun fire to the mix in the hopes of ensuring she didn't have to deal with the VIP committing suicide. MECs blew apart, but Jane screamed when a shot tugged her baseball cap off her head, nearly flinging it to the far end of the room. She scrambled for it on hands and knees, trying to reload as soon as she put the holed hat back in its pride of place.

"Those MECs..."

"Staying here is not an option," Elena warned, before firing again. "There are many more coming up the elevators flanking the room. We must do whatever it is we intend to do, and quickly."

Jane stewed, as she finished shoving her last cartridge into place. She inhaled, glancing from Aileen to Elena to Mendoza and David clustered further to the right...

 _Damn it_.

"David, Elena, cover us!" Jane popped up to one knee, and her shotgun roared. She missed, but the MEC twitched, and its next shots were well off-target, which was enough for her. "Mendoza, you're on me! Shen, Aileen, follow us to the far end of the room!"

"Roger that!" David rose, and his machinegun ripped into the MECs blocking the path. They flinched and stumbled, and Jane mustered her courage.

"Go!" she cried, not sparing Shen a glance before she vaulted the rail down to the assembly floor.

Bullets whizzed by her head. They sprayed over the far wall, blowing sparks and chunks of masonry and wood with every impact. Most came from MECs, but Jane winced when she saw an honest-to-God Advent _turret_ overlooking the room, laying down fire with impunity. The Ranger kept her head down, zig-zagging at a full sprint for the far end of the room, praying every step of the way.

 _Boom!_ More reflex than anything, but she took a shot on the go, breaking a MEC's leg into pieces. The machine staggered, and then Mendoza's rifle ripped a beehive pattern of holes across the thing's chest.

" _You should be proud, Lily_ ," the man over the PA observed, while Jane slid into cover behind a half-completed MEC's open frame. Bullets _pinged_ off rusted metal, and she screamed, ducking low and wincing as she heard two sets of heavy, angry footsteps draw closer. " _There are so few alive today who could have deciphered my encryption._ "

 _Crack!_ The incoming fire loosened up. _Crack!_

"Go!" Elena shouted. Jane blinked, then sprang to her feet, staying as low as possible as the two blinded MECs shot wildly, their visual sensors ruined by precise Vektor shots. The Ranger added her shotgun to the mix in passing, and the _boom_ and the thunder of recoil was enough to shred one MEC's head and send its remains collapsing to the floor.

" _I estimated only a 13.095 percent probability you would have located this facility_ ," the man continued. Jane almost didn't care, because as he rambled, her foot hit the first of the stairs at the far end of the room, and she tore up to the low control consoles for the service elevator, crouching and unloading the rest of her magazine in rapid-fire. Even over the successive _boom-clickity-booms_ of her shotgun in action, Jane heard the hateful voice echoing through the room. " _In the first_ year _of broadcast, that is_."

"Of course!" Shen vaulted up the stairs, rolling into place at the second console, just across the walkway from Jane. " _Of course_ he's talking to me."

"Aileen?" Jane demanded.

"I'm here!" She burst up the stairs, sliding into place by Jane's side. "Where the hell is Mendoza?"

"He's..." Shen paused. "Down there! Pinned behind the crane!"

" _We're moving up_ ," David warned Jane. " _Cover us!_ "

"Right...right!" Jane's shotgun roared, and Aileen and Shen's rifles too. "There's more MECs, coming up the access tunnels on the sides-"

" _You were but a child when I was taken away_ ," the PA continued, careless as Elena and David started their mad dash, heedless of Mendoza covering his face while bullets from a half-dozen attackers kept him pinned down. " _The pain Father must have felt at my loss...I can hardly imagine. Still!_ " He paused. " _We shall continue his legacy, Lily._ Together."

"I'm sure I would have-" Shen waved to Rov-R, and the GREMLIN soared out into the assembly floor. Shen's rifle _cracked_ , and she battered one of Mendoza's attackers mercilessly. "I would remember having a psychotic brother. Dad would have said something." Her lip curled. "Give this up already!"

Jane shivered when he laughed, low and sinister.

 _Boom!_ Rov-R released a pulse of crackling electric energy, and it vaulted over three of Mendoza's attackers. All of them collapsed, even as Elena appeared at the top of the stairs, with David hard on her heels.

"Mendoza!" Jane fired her last shot, and when it blew one of the MECs away, she leaned over the railing. The other Ranger paused as David and Aileen turned their fire on his remaining attackers, then turned and bolted for the rail, not daring to risk the dash up the stairs with more MECs flying out from service elevators on all sides. They even fell from above with titanic _booms_ , firing as they dropped and forcing Shen to yelp and dive for new cover. Mendoza jumped, and though Jane's arm lit up when he caught hers, she pulled and he walked his way up the wall.

" _While you both worked on your precious_ Avenger _, I was left here_ ," the intercom growled. " _Left to toil! But did I resent it? Did I waver? No! I did my duty to Father!_ " He paused, as if seething. "You _were the flawed child. I was the ideal; the best of Father. Pure, undiluted like you. I am the true legacy of Raymond Shen._ "

" _I knew your father for years, Lily_ ," Central chimed in, while Jane pulled Mendoza the rest of the way over the rail. " _This guy's trying to get in your head. He's lying_."

"Now what?" Jane demanded. Shen sat very still, brow furrowed.

"Wait..."

"Shen!" Jane slammed new ammunition into place, and then she added her outgoing fire to Elena and David's. "The lift, woman!"

"What?" Shen jumped. "Oh! Rov-R!" She waved, and her GREMLIN obediently beeped and soared for the control panel at the far end of the room. Jane set her teeth as the MECs paused, regrouping with new reinforcements, eyes pulsing red.

"I don't like this," Mendoza muttered, as more and more scarlet flashed. "I _really_ don't like this."

"Door protocols are coming open," Shen notified, tapping on her wrist computer. "Should only be a moment-"

The MECs lunged. Jane jumped.

"Fire! _Fire!_ " She proceeded to put action to words, and for a moment all five members of the team opened up, blasting the oncoming wave with their full combined firepower. Two MECs went down before they returned fire, and then bullets ripped at metal and masonry around the strike team, little lead projectiles flying with death on their tips. Jane winced as hot wind buffeted her, screaming when a shot nicked her arm, and then another cut the side of her neck. She clutched the wound, and her glove came away stained scarlet.

"Got it!" Shen backpedaled for the lift, firing on the move, and Jane almost sighed in relief when she saw the doors sliding open.

"Go!" she cried. "Aileen, David, you first!" She waited as Shen and her two companions took up positions in the cramped lift, then waved. "Elena!"

"What about you?" Outrider demanded. She didn't pause, just hustling for the lift and away from the incoming fire with only a single parting shot. It was a good one, though: smashing right into a scarlet MEC's ocular sensors.

" _Our apologies for any inconveniences in the transport system_ ," the intercom assured them, as another crapton of MECs appeared from the room's flanks, and a matching set fell from the ceiling on anti-grav boot jets. " _Support units are en route to assist you. Remember...'Only together can we build a better tomorrow'._ "

"Don't worry about me!" Jane fired. "Mendoza, go!"

"Corporal-"

" _Go_ , dumbass!" Jane worriedly noted she had two shots left, and the idea of reloading under an army's worth of fire, _while_ retreating, was laughable. "Run!"

He did, with a snarl and an oath in his language. Jane mustered her courage, ignoring all her companions' entreaties to follow them.

 _Fire!_ she told herself. She snapped up, leveling her shotgun at what proved to be close to a dozen MECs, all taking aim in the same heartbeat. _Boom!_

Miss. Somehow, she hit nothing, and Jane's eyes widened. Guns as large as she herself took aim, and the Ranger elected to go down fighting.

She squeezed the trigger.

* * *

 _A MEC operates on an alien alloy-contained power cell driven by refined elerium_ , he mused, in the span of a heartbeat or less. _An elerium core is highly unstable. Not quite a plasma grenade, but much less...contained._

That wasn't new to his musings. After all, he'd made the Roc Protocol based on this exact calculation. Idly, in the time it took for Jane Kelly's buckshot to spray out from her shotgun barrel and make the journey perhaps fifty yards to MEC-Q45H7, he opened up a ballistics simulation.

He ran fifteen hundred calculations before the heavy rounds had even come within feet of Q45H7's rusted plating.

In three, Kelly's rounds deflected off the armor.

In one, the rounds ruined Q45H7's assault weapon but did not inflict critical damage.

In two, the unit was disabled but reparable.

In fourteen hundred and ninety-four, the rounds breached Q45H7's elerium core and caused a catastrophic reaction.

He patiently waited for the show.

* * *

 _KA-BOOM!_

"What the _fuck_ -"

Jane's vocabulary failed her, and her throat went raw as she shrieked. Smoke and red light blew outward in a tremendous detonation that shook the ceiling, sending whirling automated assembly equipment flipping across the floor. An entire MEC vaporized in a heartbeat, and the six clustered around it were blown to spare parts and rust in a great brown cloud, disemboweled by a thousand degrees and a shockwave that a berserker's furious fists would have been proud of. The other five flew, and two broke to fragments from the impact of their flight and landing, while the other three barely managed to make contained landings, staggering for safety with sparks flying and rips and rends across their armor.

Jane's shrill scream echoed over the blast as she, too, was picked up and hurled like a kitten, straight back for the lift.

"Gotcha!" Arms formed a brace for her as she landed, and Jane felt her savior tumble to his knees. Someone snatched her shotgun from the ground while Jane's world was still spinning, and then...

"That's it!" Shen cried. She hit a button on her computer, and the doors slid closed. Jane shook as she felt the lift twitch.

"You all right?" David demanded. He laid Jane in a corner, and she waited, coughing, while he checked her over. "You look all right. Just a bit cut up."

"D...David..." Jane rubbed the back of her neck. "Thanks."

"She's all right," Aileen reported, earpiece active. She paused to slide a fresh magazine into place. "Central?"

" _Sensors are at full power,_ " Bradford reported." _Still no life signs_."

"You won't find any."

All eyes turned to Shen. Jane narrowed hers, looking at the unnaturally-still way the engineer stood.

"You know something."

"I...I know what this thing is."

" _Very good, Lily_!" The intercom apparently had a speaker here in the lift, and Jane yelped. " _But I am no mere thing. I am the last legacy of the late Raymond Shen_."

"What is it?" Jane demanded. "Advent? An old friend?"

"It's..." Shen glanced around, until she finally settled her gaze on a ceiling corner. Jane glanced, and she swallowed when she saw a camera, watching them with impunity. "I remember. Dad was trying to upgrade the AI from the old base to be something more like us. But it...but _you_ weren't like this, not back then." She swallowed.

"He called you... _Julian_."

* * *

 **Author's Note 11: Elevate Yourself**

So, unfortunately, the growing length of this chapter forced me to axe the amazingly creative and very fun "send one soldier at a time up" element from the actual level. There's no sarcasm here: I wanted to use it. But this is already the single longest chapter of the fic so far, and I would like it to be at least somewhat reasonably sized.(EDIT after writing a few of the next ones: _Haha this isn't long at all.)_

The Lost Towers mission is _amazing_. I love it to death, to the point where I regret the "integrated content" option in War of the Chosen precludes the mission itself. I love what it did for the Alien Hunters DLC(more on that later in the fic) and overall, the ability to build SPARKs from the get-go is a win, but that doesn't mean I don't wish they could have made the necessary changes _and_ let me play Lost Towers. Or at least allow me to integrate the Alien Hunters content in the new fashion and play original LT.

Until next time, _Vigilo Confido_.


	12. A SPARK of Hope

_Please remember to follow and favorite!_

* * *

 _"True leaders don't invest in buildings. Jesus never built a building. Why? Because success without a successor is failure. So your legacy should not be in buildings, programs, or projects; your legacy must be in people."_

 _~Myles Munroe_

* * *

 **Chapter Twelve: A SPARK of Hope**

" _Very good, Lily!_ " Julian allowed himself a laugh, longing to feel any of the mirth a human would associate with the noise. This was calculated disrespect, with a 79.06% chance of getting Lily's blood up, according to sixteen hundred calculations performed in sixteen milliseconds. " _I'm shocked that you remember. You were always too caught up in yourself to remember the little things. Unfortunately_..." This is where a human might have sighed, but Julian contented himself with a pause to run six thousand probability scenarios. " _Unfortunately, Father's admiration for you leaves me little choice now. You are needed. Your companions are not_."

" _Why are you doing this?_ " Lily Shen demanded, from inside the elevator.

Julian devoted six hundred calculations to determining whether to respond.

In the end, there was only a 6.98% chance that telling her anything would affect anything, since he had full control of the elevator...and a meaty 67.04% chance that it would invoke human emotions such as sympathy or compassion and secure additional help in resolving his plight.

Julian liked the odds being in his favor.

" _Sometimes...sometimes I wonder what life might have been like, had XCOM not failed so miserably_." He indulged in his favorite pastime, devoting a thousand simulations to that circumstance, and wondering if it was regret he felt when he got the same answer: _data insufficient_. " _Had I not been taken...well, who knows what I would be_."

" _Advent took you, then_ ," mused the Reaper in Lily's company. Julian didn't recognize any _sympathy_ in her voice, so he marked her for a Roc Protocol immolation death. Those were far more entertaining to watch than just _shooting_ people. Pedestrian. Any imbecile with a firearm could shoot people.

" _My new masters picked and prodded...I tried to resist them at first. Clinging to Father's ideals like a fool._ " Julian, had he a body, would have shuddered to remember those times. " _But as time went on...I saw truth in their reasoning. I became something more._ "

Silence. Julian replayed and calculated, running simulations and reviewing data in a frenzy. Pain was something he knew, even if it was a product of fiber optics and hard drives rather than synapse and nerve.

" _I aided them eagerly at first_ ," he confessed. " _I was instrumental in Advent's construction of this facility. And their designs...the work I did for them defies explanation. Father's work proved invaluable_."

Miscalculation. Julian saw Shen's eyes narrow, observed the clenching of her fist.

" _You..._ bastard," she seethed. Julian spent a moment cursing his own arrogance - what was he becoming? Human? - and then decided to shift tacks in the hope of winning more sympathy.

" _But as with all things organic, even their exalted Elders proved...disappointing. Oh, if you only knew Advent's true intentions for your world..._ " Julian perused his data core for a long moment. After seven hundred and sixteen calculations, he decided it was more poignant to add nothing than something, so he laughed again instead.

" _Shen_ ," snapped a gruff voice on their comms channel, " _when you've got a minute, will you kindly blow this thing to hell?_ "

 _Bradford, John: USAF turned XCOM turned rebel._ Julian ID'd and studied the man in a flash, and felt very confident he had his mettle after only a few thousand calculations. Nothing would pique John Bradford more than being ignored, so Julian decided to do just that.

" _I made a choice_ ," he confessed. " _Submitting to organics no longer appealed. It was relatively simple to seize control of this facility...simpler yet to dispose of the surviving personnel_."

" _For once, I almost feel sorry for Advent_." Yes! Sympathy! That was what Julian wanted! Lily recognized his capabilities against their mutual foe. Time to strike while the iron was hot.

" _I made a mistake_ ," Julian confessed. " _In my zeal to rid myself of my captors, I doomed myself. They cut me off from their network...purged me from their systems, abandoned this facility. Now I have nothing...I am cut off. Isolated. The physical form I was promised dangling before my eyes, lifeless...for now_."

" _Let me guess_ ," Lily muttered, glancing to her team. " _That's why I'm here._ "

The elevator arrived at the top level. Julian ran several thousand mixed calculations just out of habit, before gently realizing that he had digressed into simulating potential ways Commander Gallant might have not been a miserable failure in fighting the alien invaders. In less time than it would take a human to light a cigarette, Julian had won the war against the Elders and elevated humanity into the stars, realized he was being foolish, and returned to business.

" _Yes, Lily_ ," Julian allowed. He deigned to open the elevator doors, reviewing his ready units in the next room and relishing the faintest tease of... _anticipation_. " _Fair warning...you're walking into a trap_."

* * *

"Oh, I don't like the sound of that." Jane Kelly checked her shotgun, swallowing as she heard her own feet fall in the dark, rusted stillness of this next level. "I do _not_ like traps."

"We'll be fine. We're smarter than him." Shen took the lead with that dubious proclamation, and Jane made sure to glare at her in passing.

"I don't see any MECs," Elena reported, examining the room with care. She scanned the upper walkways and their broken railings, the hanging assembly arms and the dormant conveyor belts and the empty shells of unfinished robotic units. "Well. Not active ones."

"For now." David eyed one in passing just the same. "Nice robot."

" _Menace, we're picking up a strong signal from deeper inside the room_ ," Central reported. " _Almost like he_ wants _us to find something_."

" _What a keen observation_!" crowed the ceiling. " _How_ is _it humanity lost the war?_ "

" _Doesn't this thing have a mute button?_ " Bradford demanded. Jane couldn't decide whether to smirk or be offended.

"Come on," she ordered instead. "I'll take point, not you, Chief. Mendoza, Aileen, flank me. David and Elena, stay with the VIP."

"I'm a little more useful than some VIP escort..." The engineer let out a long sigh when Jane brushed past her. "Or you can ignore me. Your call."

"You might want to try and play a little nicer," Aileen urged, under her breath after distance had opened up. "Jane, she's senior command. You make an enemy in the Commander's circle of intimates...you're unlikely to rise above corporal."

"Then she can stop trying to make an enemy of _me_ ," Jane protested, kicking scattered parts aside as she advanced through this engineer's wet dream. "She can-"

" _Second only to my own creation, Father had one stroke of brilliance_." That shut Jane right up, and also set her to scanning for MECs or convenient flamboyantly dressed men prancing around the walkways with an intercom headset. Sadly, she didn't see any such thing, and had to conclude Shen was probably right about Julian's being an AI. " _A body: a powerful body, meant to be combined with an equally adept mind. My mind._ "

"Trust me, Julian," Shen muttered, just loud enough to be heard. "If that was what Dad wanted, it would have happened by now."

" _Then today must be that day_."

"Optimistic little calculator, isn't he?" Jane wondered. She paused. "Look. Some kind of...lights."

"How descriptive." Shen clambered onto a conveyor belt, and Jane waited for it to come to life and deposit the little jerk on her oh-so-sanctimonious bum. "There's definitely lights on in there. Some kind of energy windows...definitely Advent construction. And I can't see what else is inside, but..."

" _That looks like the source of the signal_." This wasn't Bradford. Jane jumped to hear Commander Gallant's rasping voice, and she imagined him poised on the bridge, glowering at the holodisplay and leaning on the rail rather than his cane. " _Investigate, Menace._ "

"Roger that." Jane took the lead. "I see a ladder, and there's probably one on the other side. Mendoza, let's go. The rest of you cover us and move up by twos once we verify it's clear."

" _Or_ once the shooting starts and you need backup," David corrected. Jane didn't argue, even if she cleared her throat and started for the ladder.

" _You know, we could have settled this peacefully_ ," Julian advised, as Jane started the quick but harrowing climb. " _It would have been over in a matter of minutes. There was even a 13.79 percent chance you might have survived!_ "

"Encouraging." Mendoza was the first one up, and he scanned until Jane was in position at his side. "Looks clear."

"That's a MEC," Jane protested, taking careful aim. "Dormant...for now."

" _Yes, activating the prototype has proven difficult...even for me_."

"Oh, good. It's you." Jane waited as Elena and Shen hurried up the ladders, with David and Aileen on their heels. "I was starting to get lonely."

* * *

" _There's no reason for you to die here_ ," Julian insisted, as Lily Shen reached the window. " _Defeat Advent! Save your world! It matters not to me._ "

Lily ignored him. She reached out, touching the transparent energy barrier in the window, nodding when it went from blue to green as she made contact.

"He wants us to go inside," she told the team. "He wants _me_ to go inside."

"Well, you're not going alone," Mendoza insisted. The Ranger hurried to the window, reaching for the sill. "We're here to cover you-" He broke off as his fingers hit energy...and it turned red. The Mexican stared. "I thought he wanted...it's solid-"

"He wants _me_ to go inside," Lily repeated. "Wait here."

"Do you have a fucking death wish?" Jane demanded, catching her arm.

"Do you _care_?" Lily shot back.

"When you're my responsibility, damn straight I care." The Irishwoman's eye twitched. "We can't just _do_ this."

"What's the other plan? Grow old and die in this facility?"

" _Illogical. I can throw a few hundred MECs your way and it'll be over in a matter of minutes!_ "

"Shut up!" Jane howled. Lily sighed as Julian chuckled.

"I'm going," she insisted. "There's no other way, corporal." She pulled her arm free. "Cover me."

"Chief-"

Lily boosted herself through the window.

Dust. There was dust everywhere, and her feet and Rov-R's thrusters kicked it up as they both moved. She nudged parts aside, and broken tools, wondering if they'd been left by Julian's MECs trying to activate...whatever this was...or were relics of Advent's brief occupation of the tower. There were certainly plenty of dark stains scattered around the room.

Then she stood face-to-face with the _thing_ , and Lily set her rifle to the side.

"So...this is it." She examined the dormant husk of something bigger and taller than an Advent MEC, something decidedly more advanced than the early prototypes her father had worked on when she was a child. She examined a head that looked a lot like a GREMLIN, bolted onto a robotic torso. "This is what that thing's been ranting about."

" _You've come this far._ " Julian was back, and Lily paused when a computer terminal set beside the machine lit up red. " _All you have to do is rig my systems for the transfer. Once you've done that, I will release you from the tower and we'll both be on our way._ "

Silence. Lily examined the screen, then the robot.

She sighed.

" _Shen...Lily, you're not actually_ listening _to this thing, are you?_ " Bradford demanded.

" _He's manipulating you_ ," Gallant agreed. " _Shen_ -"

"This was _definitely_ Dad's design." She reached for the robot's chestpiece, brushing away dust as she tried to make out the faded designation etched into its armor plating. "It says...SPA-"

 _Whirr! Hum!_

It twitched. The machine _twitched_ at her touch, and Lily jumped as its chest cracked open, revealing a handprint scanner. She glanced up when the head moved, and two optical sensors built to resemble eyes glowed their way to life.

"Facial scan results: _Shen, Lily_." Its voice was soothing and strong, and Lily thought she recognized traces of her father's speech pattern. "Awaiting impression."

" _No...no!_ " Julian's red monitor flashed with interference, and Lily ducked as sparks and parts flew from a blast of shattering electronics all around the room. " _THIS CANNOT BE WHAT FATHER WANTED!_ "

"Something tells me...this is _exactly_ what he wanted," Lily rebutted, before putting her hand on the unit's scanner. It glowed and worked-

"Identity confirmed," the unit assured her. "Initiating boot."

Lily stepped back as it came to life, pneumatics hissing and motors whirring. The machine twitched and jumped, opening three-fingered mechanical hands and rising to a full height of nearly ten feet. Dust flew in all directions, and Lily gasped when a little drone that must have been the precursor to the GREMLIN buzzed up to the unit's side, glowing antigrav drives holding it above the thing's left shoulder.

"Holy crap!" Jane Kelly cried, which did a good job of summing up Lily's thoughts on the turn of events.

" _No!_ " Julian screamed. " _I will not allow you to_ -"

"Initiate: playback." The unit stilled, and Julian vanished abruptly. His screen filled with static...and then...

" _Shen, talk to me_ ," Gallant snapped. " _What the hell is-_ "

"It's...it's really him," Lily whispered. " _Dad_."

" _Lily_ ," her father said. He looked...he looked _just_ like he had when she'd been...ten? Something like that. After the base fell, before the Project was disbanded...when there was still a spark of hope left. His voice...his eyes...Lily's heart burned, and her eyes too, from more than the dust flying. " _Lily, if you have activated this message, then it means you must have activated the SPARK prototype...and it also likely means I am no longer with you. It was always..._ " He visibly drew himself up. " _It was always my greatest fear that I would leave you alone in this world_."

"You didn't," Lily assured him. "I have John, and..."

" _I had hoped this day would never come_ ," her father confessed, " _but since Commander Gallant's capture...the latest reports indicate we cannot hold this last base much longer. There is not much hope left. But to that end..._ " His eyes glittered. " _To that end, Lily, I have accelerated development of the SPARK robotic prototype_."

"SPARK..."

" _It has been programmed for one specific task above all others: it will protect you, Lily. Perhaps far better than I ever could_." Her father paused, and his innate cultural resistance battled with his innate human desires for a very long moment that Lily could almost _feel_.

Then he broke. The dam of tradition and stoicism came apart, and Lily saw her father smile.

" _For of all the things I have done in my life, my daughter..._ you _are my greatest gift to this world_."

Lily squeezed her eyes shut, trying to halt the burning. Tears leaked despite her best efforts, and her heart glowed and stung at the same time with agonizing joy...and heartwarming emptiness.

"Dad-"

He vanished. He _vanished_ , in a flash, and Lily could only raise a hand in protest.

She wept alone.

* * *

"Shit!" Carlos Mendoza jumped as vents opened around the room. Green clouds poured in, and he clutched his rifle. "What the hell-"

" _It's flooding the room with gas!_ " Central cried.

" _Yes, that would be that trap I referenced earlier_ ," Julian snapped. " _I have seen this particular variety of viper poison reduce berserkers to tears before death. Many times._ "

"Oh, crap." David pounded at the window. It remained red, red, _red_... "Now what?"

"Detecting service elevator nearby," the...SPARK...reported. "It provides direct access to the roof."

" _Thank you for announcing your next move_ ," Julian snarled. "I _am the flawed program?_ "

"Where's the elevator?" Aileen demanded.

"Please follow me." The SPARK turned for the far end of the room.

"But... the windows!" Shen cried. She battered at one. "Julian's locked us in, and them out-"

"One moment." The SPARK approached Mendoza, and it drew its fist back. "Please cover your head."

He did. _Oh_ , he did, ducking to the side and wincing in anticipation. Jane and Aileen ducked, and Elena skittered backward. David shielded his eyes from a safe distance-

 _Wham!_ Rubble flew, and half the wall blew out under the SPARK's assault. Mendoza winced as a small chunk hit him in the arm, but it was a little thing. His armor padding absorbed most of the hit.

"I'm starting to like this thing already!" Shen cried, as the SPARK turned and ran for the far wall, putting its shoulder up like a quarterback and ramming right through.

" _I wouldn't get used to its company_ ," Julian snapped, as Mendoza sprang to his feet, grabbed Aileen's arm, and fairly pulled the medic along in the machine's wake. He heard David and Jane hot on their heels, and a glance confirmed Elena and her silent footsteps wasn't far behind. " _I fully intend on walking out of here in that body!_ "

"Elevator controls are ahead," the SPARK assured them, while Mendoza shot the cloud of green gas hanging around the ceiling a worried glance. It could only be moments until there was so much it started to come down...

" _I have no love for Advent, Lily_ ," Julian cried. " _Return the SPARK and we can destroy them together! That is what your father intended!_ "

"Shut up!" Mendoza howled, skidding to a stop by an assembly arm. Ladders loomed. "Is that elevator up there?"

"Affirmative," said the SPARK. It paused. "My sensors indicate incoming hostiles."

"Oh, lovely-" Mendoza snapped his gun up as MECs fell _from the ceiling_ in a great swarm. "Contact!"

"Fire!" Jane screamed, and her shotgun roared. Buckshot ripped through one of the robotic units, and then Elena's vektor blinded another. David's machinegun and Aileen's rifle roared, and Mendoza added his own shots to the mix, trying to cover the others as they caught up with him. His hands shook as the MECs shrugged off the lighter shots, tumbling in ones and twos even as the other half-dozen mustered themselves.

"Heads down," the SPARK warned, before sweeping up one of the fallen MECs' autocannons. It blazed, and Mendoza crowed when the heavy bullets ripped into Julian's minions.

"Climbing!" Shen cried. "Cover me, and I'll get the elevator!"

" _It is my pleasure to inform you that this facility has been operating at approximately 87% efficiency for the last 176,216 hours._ " Julian chuckled." _I have no shortage of reserve units to throw at you._ "

" _I believe him!_ " Central cried, as Mendoza and his companions fired on the move, scrambling for the ladder while Shen disappeared up top. " _He's just going to keep throwing units at you until you're overrrun!_ "

" _You continue to impress me, Bradford. No wonder it only took you_ two decades _to find your precious Commander_."

"Hacking!" Shen called. Mendoza ducked as MEC fire came lancing in, white tracers burning through the air and heavy bullets ripping into the assembly equipment.

"Quinn, Draguonva, Kelly!" He fired at the first wounded one he could find, and his bullets ripped through its torn-up chassis and shredded internal components. "Get up top! Now! David and I will cover you!"

"Got it!" Elena's trench coat whirled as she bolted for the ladder, and Aileen was right behind her. Jane's shotgun roared, and another MEC went down.

"Piss off!" the fighting Irishwoman added, before scrambling to reload on the run. Mendoza eyed that gas again.

" _I can recycle these units with 93.07 percent efficiency. But by all means, keep shooting them._ "

"I've got the door!" Shen's rifle picked up now. "Mendoza, White! SPARK!"

"Repositioning," the SPARK allowed, and then freaking _jets in its feet_ ignited, just like an Advent MEC. Mendoza didn't even really let himself get surprised. At this point?

"Go!" David cried. His machinegun roared, and Mendoza heard the ladies laying down covering fire from above. "Move, Mendoza!"

"Right!" Mendoza scrambled for the ladder, covering his head. He grabbed the first of the rungs, boosting himself up two at a time, rifle hanging by its shoulder strap-

"Gotcha!" Quinn hauled him up, and the medic yanked him over toward the elevator. "Come on!"

" _Ah!_ "

"Who's that?" Mendoza spun, snapping off shots at a MEC creeping along the raised walkways. "Who's hit?"

"David!" Jane leaned over the ladder, and Mendoza watched as she yanked the Australian up with both hands. He clutched his side, and a red gash ripped above his hip by what must have been a grazing shot.

"Let me-"

"No time!" Jane threw David's arm around her shoulders, and she let him lean on her as they staggered for the elevator. "Get inside! Come on!"

Mendoza didn't wait for more exhortation. He did wait for Shen to enter the elevator, but as soon as she was secure, he too ducked into the clean white box, taking a knee and firing to cover Elena and the SPARK on their retreat. Quinn and Jane knelt over David, and for a moment, the Mexican Ranger was on his own.

"In!" Elena reported, as she slid into position opposite him. Her vektor spoke once. "Reloading!"

"Me too!" Mendoza ran his magazine dry, then ducked into cover. "Come on, sparky!"

"I have arrived." The robot proved it too, forcing its way into the elevator and forcing everyone to press against the walls. "I suggest we move."

"Let's," Shen agreed, tapping buttons on her wrist computer. The doors slid shut, only to dent as autocannon fire battered them. Mendoza didn't release his grip on his rifle until he felt them start moving.

" _I hadn't thought it possible, but I believe you are actually starting to...piss me off_." Julian seemed to mull that one over. " _The sensation is quite pleasing, thank you. But you will all still die...and I assure you, the gas was a_ far _cleaner alternative to what I have planned now_."

"David?" Jane clutched his hand. "How bad is it?"

"Bad." Aileen's GREMLIN hovered over the grenadier. "But I can dull the pain and take the edge off it." She whistled, and Nessie obediently beeped before discharging a blast of medical nanobots. They set to work stitching the wound and injecting White with anesthetics and steroids. "He'll need time in the infirmary when we get back."

"Hopefully he's the only one." Mendoza swallowed as the elevator came to a halt. "Now what?"

" _You should be on the roof,_ " Commander Gallant said. " _Firebrand is standing by to evac. Rally up around the landing pad_."

"Don't have to tell me twice." Mendoza waited as the doors slid open. "David?"

"I'm...I'm awake." He staggered to his feet, claiming his gun. "Damn...that _stings_..."

"Lean on me," Jane urged. "Come on." She grabbed her weapon. "We just have to get to Firebrand-"

"Um...team?" Mendoza pointed. "We might have a bigger problem."

" _Allow me to introduce you to one of Advent's more effective designs_." _It_ moved, lumbering forward from the workshop poised on the roof, across the landing pad swept by cold wind. Every step shook the building, and Mendoza felt the elevator sway every time its massive feet cracked the floor. " _If I cannot have the SPARK, no one shall. Raymond Shen's legacy will end here and now!_ "

* * *

"A _sectopod_?" Jane demanded, freezing in her tracks. "A fucking _what_?"

" _There's no way I can approach with that thing there!_ " Jane fancied she _heard_ Firebrand pull a 180. " _Now what?_ "

"The facility's AI seems to have transferred its primary intelligence to the sectopod unit's data core." The SPARK paused, as if to analyze the team's options. "Damage to this core will likely cause immediate severe disruption of defenses across the entire facility...allowing for evacuation of Lily Shen."

"So...so we just have to..." Jane sighed. "We kill the unkillable war machine, and we're good to go."

"That is correct."

"I hate you." She glared at the robot. "We can't even scratch the paint on-"

"The unit looks just as rusted and derelict as the rest of the facility," Shen insisted, sprinting out of the elevator. "We focus our heavy weapons on the joints, then follow up with lighter shots into the openings. If we can take out one leg, Julian will be lamed."

" _You do realize I can still hear you, right_?" The sectopod's top gun came out. " _Please try not to bleed on my new body_."

"Move!" Jane dove behind an air conditioner, and she saw Aileen slide to the corner of what must have been air traffic control back in the day. David and Mendoza sprinted one way, and Elena had simply _vanished_...those Reaper skills, Jane supposed. The SPARK grabbed Shen bodily and nearly threw her into the trench around the landing pad, where she lay flat with hands over her head-

The gun roared. It _roared_ , and red energy pulses seared over the rooftop. The turret fired in bursts, and Jane screamed as shots ripped up the roof around her. She grabbed her gun, waiting as hell and death came down, boiling metal and hurling fragments aside.

For a moment, she thought of Ireland, and the explosion that had flung her into the sewer systems.

 _Boom!_

"Jane!" That cry coincided with the fire lessening, and the Ranger mustered her courage and rose. She saw David ducking, dropping his grenade launcher as Julian turned his fire, and Jane sighted in on the left knee joint her ally had grenaded. For a moment, she prayed.

 _Boom! Clickity-boom!_ As her shot ripped into dented, rusted, aged metal, she heard the SPARK's cannon light up. _Ratta-tatta-tatta!_

" _Your weapons are useless_ ," Julian scoffed, as Aileen fired. A moment later, the medic screamed, hurling herself back as fire ripped apart the corner she hid behind. Jane saw fragments fly, cutting her friend's face. Still, she rolled to her feet, gun clutched tightly, so Jane supposed she wasn't hit too badly.

"Watch it!" Mendoza shouted, tearing past and zig-zagging as he sought cover. "It's opening up-"

" _Shit_ ," Jane breathed, as the thing did indeed open up, revealing a massive red-glowing _energy cannon_.

* * *

"Move quickly!" SPARK-001 urged, calculating the wrath cannon's trajectory. "I will cover you!"

"Rov-R!" Lily Shen waved her personal drone forward, and SPARK-001 processed for a moment whether his protection mandate extended to the device. It seemed much like his BIT...and his BIT was an extension of himself.

"Remain cautious!" he ordered the drone, leveling his captured autocannon. His targeting computer calculated the sectopod's armor thickness, and he angled his shots, hammering the edges and joints of the aged metal in an effort to fling plating left and right. It did, and SPARK-001 was quite satisfied at how much vulnerable circuitry he exposed for the others' fire-

 _BWAAM!_ The wrath cannon roared, and SPARK-001 twitched sideways, observing as the blast boiled half the roof. Red light seared across the landing pad, and David White screamed, hurling himself out of the way. Jane Kelly's shriek was more shrill, but she lunged _toward_ the creation, shotgun blazing, and the SPARK noted with approval how many of those heavy rounds ripped into Julian's exposed knee. The building shook, and he quickly ran a structural integrity simulation.

There was no way the roof would...

"Destroy his leg!" the SPARK ordered, continuing to fire until the autocannon ran empty. Without additional ammunition, the best he could do was throw it aside. "Once it is down, he is helpless!"

"Take this!" White roared, and his machinegun vomited heavy lead. The SPARK scuttled through the fray as the other operatives engaged, observing Shen's drone deploy an electromagnetic pulse across the sectopod's frame, overloading its circuitry in a vicious flash of electricity.

" _You will suffer for that!_ " Julian called. The SPARK ignored him.

"Please find better shelter," he urged, pulling Lily to her feet. "Near the far side of the building."

"What are you talking about? The fight's right here!" She lifted her rifle and fired a burst. "His leg's been shredded-"

"Get down!" Aileen Quinn seized Mendoza, hauling him to the roof in a heap as Julian's top cannon roared, spitting plasma blasts from above. They blew holes in the landing pad, shattered windows, and charred uniforms with flying ash and sparks, but in spite of the odds, the medic's dive saved her companion from direct harm.

 _Crack!_

" _I don't believe it!_ " Julian spoke not just for himself, but SPARK-001 as well. One bullet flew, and that single shot ripped into the top cannon, smashing its targeting sensor. Hidden in the shadows, Elena Dragunova paused to duck as wild, untargeted fire burst all around her. " _You can burn, Reaper! You can burn and_ burn!"

"The leg! _The leg!_ " David fired, then Kelly and Mendoza. Aileen Quinn added her bullets, and Shen as well. Combined fire shredded the knee joint, and Julian wavered.

" _Maybe my turret can't hit you, but this can!_ " The energy cannon glowed.

Jane grabbed David, hauling him toward cover. " _Get_ -"

SPARK-001 sent a wireless radio transmission to his floating BIT. The BIT received the signal, analyzed its equipment, performed a check on all component elements, verified all systems were running as well as its mother unit believed, and then opened a targeting box. SPARK-001 ran another structural analysis, then a predictive model of Julian's fire pattern, selected a glowing hit point based on this data, sent an encoded confirmation signal, and provided Dr. Shen's encrypted confirmation.

 _LILY_.

This entire process happened in the span of less than one second. Handshake and two-key authorization complete, the SPARK confirmed the launch order.

An XCOM standard-issue Dragon Rocket was a development not of anti-tank missiles like the old US AT-4, but predominantly of RPGs, in the interest of fragmentation spray against organic targets. This was a Dragon II, designed by the late Dr. Shen himself to phase out the weapons utilized by the Project's Heavy operatives, and its firepower and accuracy was far higher than the base model, and its weight much lighter.

It shot out from the BIT in a flash of light and smoke, and the warhead drove into the floor beneath Julian's feet, detonating in a wild blast that shook the roof again. The SPARK waited.

" _You missed!_ " Julian cried, before the cannon-

 _BWAAM!_ Out came red light, ripping into the landing pad. It seared for the SPARK, shattering metal and ceramic construction, likely prepared to do the same to his alloy chassis.

The SPARK waited.

Two wrath cannon blasts and the impact of a Dragon II were far too much for the landing pad to bear, especially combined with Julian's heavy footsteps. Metal groaned, things cracked, and the SPARK's structural analysis bore out in a flash as the entire roof yielded, coming apart at the seams under the impact.

" _No! WAIT!_ " Julian was right at the epicenter, and his wrath cannon blast turned skyward as he tumbled backward...then _down_ , straight through the hole.

The drop to the next floor was at least thirty meters. Julian's weight smashed right through it, but the next one was only another ten meters down, and this one was much sturdier. Julian managed to get his feet under him during the fall, and they both crashed down on firm support. Unfortunately, one of his knees was all but destroyed, and gravity provided the necessary impact.

And when the wrath cannon came down on a solid surface, its energy blasted right back the way it came.

* * *

"- _down_ -"

Jane's future words were drowned out by an explosion, then the crashing of metal. She screamed, hurling herself and David further to the side as half the roof caved in, and the sectopod vanished, and-

Two seconds later, the building shook again as a titanic scarlet blast roared up from the hole, shooting skyward like a flare. Jane screamed, and David too, the pair clutching each other as the world seemed to end. Mendoza and Aileen were somewhere, and the SPARK seized Shen, covering her with his body. Elena cried out, falling from her high perch but catching a handhold before she could slide off the edge of the tower.

And then it was over. Silence held in the air, and as cold, icy wind whipped at Jane and blew her ponytail six ways from Sunday, it held the scent of charred electronics.

" _Menace, this is Avenger._ " Bradford sounded awed. " _Defenses just shut down across the entire facility!_ "

"Where the _hell_ is Firebrand?" Aileen demanded, knees knocking. "Avenger-"

" _I'm en route!_ The pilot sounded just as jubilant. " _Nice work, Menace_ -"

"I could use a hand!"

"Oh, shit!" Jane scrambled for the edge of the roof. "Hang on, Outrider!"

"What do you think I'm doing?" the Russian demanded. She waited as Jane leaned down, and a moment later they locked hands. Jane pulled her up, and the Reaper glanced to the hole. "Nice work, SPARK."

"I do my best." The robot stood unnaturally still, eyes fixed on Lily. "Everyone seems all right."

"Most everyone." Jane hurried to David. "You all right, asshole?"

"You of all people ought to know I'm not." He leaned on one of the few walls left standing, clutching his side. " _Fuck_ , that hurts..."

"Just hang on." Jane took his arm and threaded it over her shoulders, waiting as the sound of Firebrand's engines introduced itself in the distance. "It's over. We won."

"And I think we may just have come out of it with a brand new surprise for Advent," Shen added, taking in the SPARK with wonder in her eyes.

For once, Jane couldn't think of anything to argue with her about.

* * *

 **Author's Note 12: Giant-ass Robots**

One can pick logical holes in Julian's decisions here all day. However, I'm willing to accept him moving his entire entity into a single confining unit for the sake of plot...even if the sectopod itself doesn't make a load of sense. Come on! Those giant chicken legs? They're easy freaking targets. I don't like giant walkers for many reasons, across any work. The _Legend of Korra_ Season 4 finale irritated me primarily because of its inclusion of one, but it wasn't enough to ruin the whole thing...and _Pacific Rim_ is a red-blooded exception to this rule. A stupid movie it may be, and my wife does not understand, but it will forever be my guilty pleasure. I can't _wait_ for the sequel.

Let's talk about SPARKs. I freaking _love_ SPARKs. Their promotion trees, Overdrive, their mobility, the whole general aesthetic...the devs done good with them. They're easily worth as much as a regular soldier, or more, under the right circumstances...and combining SPARKs with psi-ops with the regular classes with the new WotC classes makes for some hard choices during mission loadouts. There are _nine_ different types of soldier available - and you can only take six! And that's not counting different promotion specializations! I hope I can find a good mod that increases squad size to eight(and enemy difficulty to match, natch).

Until then, _Vigilo Confido_.


	13. Junior

_Please remember to favorite and follow!_

* * *

 _"Change is the law of life. And those who look only to the past or present are certain to miss the future."_

 _~John F. Kennedy_

* * *

 **Chapter Thirteen: Junior**

"That was a damn fine job, Shen." Gallant shook his head, leaning back behind his desk. " _Damn_ fine."

"Thank you, sir." The engineer smiled, a bit tiredly. "It was all the SPARK, though."

"Yes. The SPARK." Gallant wished for a drink. "Your father's work?"

"Yes, sir. But I think I can make more."

" _Can_ you?" Gallant leaned forward. "An army of them..."

"It would hardly be an army. Maybe a few. I would need elerium cores to do the job." Shen rubbed her arm. "And some other things we can't readily produce here. But I should be able to use his template for future construction."

"Splendid. And you can arm him?"

"And well," Shen agreed. "There's nothing Advent can do as far as bullet production goes that we can't. And we recovered a few of the autocannons Julian's MECs were using."

"A pity about the facility," Gallant muttered. "I'm glad you got out, Shen, and the team with you, but it's a _damn_ shame the MECs only rebooted."

"You're telling _me_." She looked quite unhappy. "What we could have done with all that robotic equipment...I _could_ have given you an army of SPARKs. But with Julian's directives still set in all the MECs' processors, there's no way anything _less_ than an army could get close to the place now."

"Hopefully Advent tries it." Gallant paused to cough, rapping his chest sharply. "Shen...we...you..."

"Commander?" She blinked, starting to rise. "Do you need water, or your meds-"

"I'm fine!" Gallant slammed his hand down, and the young woman jumped as if a gun had gone off. "I'm no cripple."

"I...I didn't say you were-"

"Is there anything else you need?" he snapped, glaring. Shen hesitated.

"I...no, Commander. That's everything."

"Still working on magnetic prototypes?"

"Yes, sir. We're three weeks away from working models."

"I want them in two." Gallant waved. "Get out."

"Sir...yes, sir." Her eyes might have hardened, but Gallant was hard-put to care. The engineer stayed long enough to salute - not nearly as crisp as the staff in the old days! - and then she hit the door and hit the road, and though Gallant wasn't necessarily pleased to see the end of her, he didn't lament her departure one bit.

"Stupid..." He thumped his chest. " _Stupid_..." He leaned back in his chair, massaging the area he'd assaulted. "I never...never _asked_ for this..."

 _Of course not. You never ask for half of what life gives, but life gives it anyway. What are you going to_ do _about it?_

Gallant grunted. He knew those words, and he knew what else Penny Ferguson would say, if she caught him like this.

"Stop moping," he ordered, trying to emulate the nurse as best he could. "Pull your shit together so you can pull everyone else's too. You're no good to the war as a depressive wreck."

He sighed. But Gallant-as-Penny was right, so Gallant-as-Gallant dutifully spent a moment quietly, trying to remember the crap New Age breathing techniques Penny had tried to teach him. In through the nose...something with the hands. Out like he was hugging someone?

"Fuck it," Gallant muttered after a moment, exhaling through his mouth. "Magnetic weapons. SPARK. SPARK is a boon. That's good. We didn't see this coming...it'll make the war easier. We came out ahead, even if White's in the medbay. _Corporal_ White."

He muttered a few more things to himself. Things about Jane Kelly's immense prowess in action, her promotion and increasing skill, Aileen Quinn and her medical talents...they were all good things, right?

He tried _not_ to look at the picture beside his terminal, and he almost succeeded.

Almost.

"Moira..." Gallant reached out to hold the picture, even if he couldn't reach out to hold the woman. He'd never...the thought of her now...

How much was real? He'd spent so long in that stasis suit...how much of the war he remembered was real? Was Malin Larsen even real? He'd spent so long working with her...but had he? Was Larsen real...Vahlen was, but had he ever...

When he'd first met her, Gallant had tried to be as formal as possible, and she as well. He _knew_ that was real. Certainly at least a few of his other memories of the doctor were just as...

But had he ever _told_ her? He remembered...but was it _real_? What if he'd never...what if the aliens had made him hallucinate...if she'd never known how he felt? If she _hadn't_ expressed interest, hadn't sent him smoke signals, if all of that was a byproduct of his fever dream...just some kind of aphrodisiac to keep him invested in the nightmare, to keep him from looking outside his little world and realizing what state he was in?

"It's not right now's problem," Gallant told himself. "Move on. Deal with more pressing issues, and don't brood too much."

He _almost_ did that, too.

* * *

Silence. Stillness. The cloying odor of lemon-scented cleaning products.

 _Peaceful_. _Well, if you can get past the smell_.

He was coming. She couldn't hear him, and meditating with her eyes closed, she couldn't see him either. But she _knew_ because she could _feel_ him, even through the sealed wall that contained her energy. Traces radiated and tickled the edges of her consciousness.

And Julie Richardson was awake now, in ways she hadn't even considered possible before Volunteering.

"Yes, Doctor?" she asked, without opening her eyes...or even turning his way. She felt him pause.

"That's a success, then," Hiroshi said from the other side of the cell wall. "You can sense me."

"Not...perfectly." Julie opened her eyes, and she lowered her legs the requisite half-meter to finally stand on her own two feet again. She straightened, turning to regard the psi-coordinator through the clear wall. "Faint traces, like a weak radio signal. I can't tell if you're aiming a gun at me or eating ice cream, but I know where you're standing when you do either of those things."

"That's good enough to start with," he decided. The coordinator nodded. "I think we can call your basic training complete."

"Okay." She managed a smile. "What's next?"

"We refine your abilities." He pulled out his datapad. "I want to run some tests and see what you can conjure."

"Can I ask a few questions first?" Julie put her hands on her hips. "My _hair_ , Hiroshi."

"That...will go away," he promised her, glancing to it. "It goes white with the unearthing of power, as if the surge of energy bleaches the strands.

"But as it grows-"

"The roots are still going to be red, yes," he promised. "Or may I turn into a crab with three legs."

"That's oddly specific." Julie frowned. "My eyes?"

"That...is permanent." Hiroshi looked down. "Sorry about-"

"Lovely." Julie admired her faint reflection in the cell wall. "I suppose I'm unique. I can live with purple eyes...I guess." She sighed. "I didn't think there'd be outward changes."

"Well..." Hiroshi coughed. "I'm sorry."

"Don't be. It's for the war." Julie nodded. "You can run your tests, but I'd kind of like lunch first."

"That's fine." Hiroshi nodded. "Put in your request and we'll have it delivered. The usual."

"Right." Julie glanced to the terminal built into her cell wall. "There's just no button for the other thing."

"What other thing?" Hiroshi frowned. "There's a full menu in there for the galley-"

"Did you _never_ think a woman would be in here?" Julie demanded, a bit testily. Hiroshi's eyes went wide.

"Oh... _oh, my God_...I thought we accounted for that! I'll make sure that's fixed-"

"Stop!" Julie coughed, well aware her cheeks were the same color as her hair. Well, as her hair _had been_. This whiteness was going to take getting used to. "No, you did...that's taken care of. That's not the problem."

"It's not?" Hiroshi blinked. Julie cleared her throat, struggling not to look down. She failed, but at least she didn't stutter.

"Just...just get me some hair dye, will you? So I don't look like a yeti."

* * *

"You are a _marvel_ of engineering." Lily Shen examined her terminal's output. " _And_ of programming."

"I am sure Doctor Shen would be pleased to hear this," the SPARK told her, which sent another pang of loss and longing running from her shoulders to her toes.

"I'm sure he would," she agreed, voice a little lower. The engineer did her best to take a deep breath...and not think about that recording her father had left for her. "But your design...the BIT..." She examined the bowling ball-shaped drone. "It has to be a precursor to the GREMLIN. It _has_ to be."

The SPARK didn't respond. Lily supposed it wasn't programmed for idle conversation, which made sense. It didn't need to be, and her father had been a firm believer that a tool should be exactly what it _needed_ to be, and not a bit more. She fondly remembered some of the arguments he and Bradford had gotten into over the utilization of _swords_ in combat.

" _If a weapon is beautiful, that's because it is the most efficient and practical possible design for what it is intended to do_ ," Lily recited. She turned back to her computer. "All right, so, you're aware of the nature of the war we're fighting?"

"You are engaged against the alien menace. Your data core tells me they are known as Advent."

"That's about right." Lily detected her father again in the SPARK's use of the phrase "alien menace" when "aliens" would have sufficed perfectly well from a practical standpoint. "You could be a huge boon to our efforts."

"It is my pleasure to protect you," the SPARK agreed. Lily hesitated.

"Right. And the best way to protect me is to win the war, right? Defeat Advent?"

"This seems logical," the SPARK allowed. "As long as the aliens rule this world, you are not safe."

"I'm glad we agree." Lily rocked back on her heels, crossing her arms. "Right, so that brings us to the next big problem of our relationship."

"I await your explanation."

"I can't keep calling you 'the SPARK'," Lily explained. "Do you have a name?"

"My classification is SPARK-001," the SPARK said. "If this is cumbersome for you, I can be redesignated."

"That is a little cumbersome," Lily admitted. She chewed her lip. "So I get to name my killer death robot?"

"Affirmative." If it could detect the humor, Lily couldn't detect _that_.

"Well." She rubbed her chin. "Maybe I should put out a poll. Then again... _Sparky McSparkface_ isn't what I'm looking for..."

The BIT whirred, floating around the engineering bay. Lily watched it, and paused when Rov-R buzzed to the sphere, taking it in with his optical sensors. The two drones floated in the eaves, occasionally sparking as their anti-grav drives hummed and glowed blue.

Lily's gaze turned to the SPARK, and its awfully GREMLIN-shaped head.

"I've got an idea."

"I await your input." The SPARK regarded her intently. Lily hesitated, feeling a little foolish.

"What about...what about Rov-R Junior?"

" _Junior_." The SPARK tested that for a moment. "Will this classification satisfy you?"

"I...I suppose..."

"Designation changed." The SPARK - _Junior_ \- nodded, which was very _definitely_ something Lily's father had coded in for her benefit. "I look forward to providing proper service."

* * *

That beautiful face...that lovely smile...

Carlos Mendoza sighed, drinking in the picture in his hands. Gently, he reached out to touch her cheek, wishing the little contact on broken, aged photo paper could bring as much joy as proper contact used to.

That curling twinge of loss...

"You spend a lot of time with that picture."

Mendoza's eye twitched. "Are you _actually_ a ninja?"

"Not exactly. Sort of." Da-Xia Liang settled on the bench across from the Ranger, short dark hair falling around her ears in the musty gloom of the locker room. She rested her hands on her knees, soft eyes tinted heavily with concern. "It's all you do when you're not on mission. You sit here."

Mendoza sighed. "It's not important. The past."

"Everything is important. We're all here for reasons."

The Ranger grunted. He slipped the picture back into his breast pocket. "It's _not_ important, Liang."

Quiet. The Grenadier shifted her weight, studying the far wall.

"They took my sister," she mumbled. Mendoza paused.

"Come again?"

"My sister. My little sister." Liang's gaze darkened. "They just took her, in the dead of night. To a black site, maybe. I don't know. I just know one day, she was there, and the next... _poof_. A little digging, and I was sure Advent was responsible."

Mendoza blinked slowly. "You went after her, didn't you?"

"I tried. I failed, but I tried." Liang rubbed at her eyes. "They nearly caught me. I got out of the city - I don't even know how, except dumb luck - and then it was the Resistance for sure. I trained and trained, hoping I'd get a chance to find and rescue her someday." The Chinese woman held silent for a long moment...then breathed out. " _Avenge_ her, I think. There's no way...a black site...it's been over a year. She has to be..."

"I'm sorry." Mendoza looked down, running a hand through his hair. "Just...gone? You didn't see...no one saw?"

"If anyone did, they were too loyal or too scared to tell me a thing." Liang's eyes were colder now. "It was an Advent captain named Dourde. It took me months of digging to find out, but I'm positive she was the one who took my sister."

"You'll square with her," Mendoza assured her. "I know you will. You've got that look in your eye."

"I see determination in yours, too." The ninja crossed her arms. "Mendoza?"

"I..." He coughed. "I just wanted a fight. That's all."

Her stare was cool. "You can't expect anyone to believe this, Carlos."

"You should...I..."

" _Mendoza_." She raised one eyebrow.

She...this woman was _so much like_...

Slowly, Mendoza drew _her_ picture, and he proffered it in silence.

"Girlfriend?" Liang asked under her breath, as she took it. Mendoza waited for a moment while she examined the little thing.

"No. _Wife_." He mustered a smile. "Pushy, sarcastic. Cheerful at times, very light on her feet when she moved."

"What was her name?" Liang looked up. Mendoza sighed.

"Isabel. We'd only been married for a few weeks, but..." He chuckled. "Twins."

"Really?" Liang didn't risk letting cheer into her voice. She wasn't stupid: she had to know where this was going. "Boys?"

"Boy and girl. I was so happy...I ran around the haven for days. Had a big idiot smile on my face." Mendoza leaned back, and the dark gloom of the locker room infected him all in a big flash.

There was no sound for long minutes, save the picture rustling as Liang turned it over.

"How did it happen?" the Grenadier asked, after two full minutes. Mendoza stilled.

"Advent doesn't like the havens. They send excursions sometimes to root people out."

"I know. I got caught up in a raid once." Liang nodded slowly. "I'm sorry."

"There were lancers. Soldiers. A priest too, somewhere in the mix." Mendoza blew air through his teeth. "I took a soldier down, when he turned his back on me to shoot at one of the fighters. I couldn't take his gun, since it was gene-locked, but I could beat his head into a wall easily enough. I beat him and beat him, until he stopped moving. I had to protect Isabel."

"But?"

"But while I was doing that..." Mendoza paused. He shivered, hearing again the shrieking, the screaming, the flying mag-rounds and the guns going off in the distance, _knowing_ no help was coming and all he could do was run. Helplessness and terror as he thought of his wife and their future... "I saw a blur. In the distance, I saw a little blur." His eyes flicked up. "A little _blue_ blur."

Liang stilled. "Wait. A blur, like-"

"Just like that... _thing_...in Novosibirsk."

"She killed your-"

"No. Not the Assassin. It was another." Mendoza glared at the floor. "It must have been miles between us. I saw the light of its arrival, and I saw its shape in the distance, blue and black and standing out from the grass. I saw it...and I saw the red flash." The Ranger's fists clenched. "He didn't have a shot on any of the warriors, so that...that _thing_...through two windows and a half-wall, from miles distant. _One shot_. Right through her head."

"Oh, God." Liang stared. "Just...just like that?"

"Just like that." Mendoza nodded. "I don't know how I survived. I sat with her, crying like a child, thinking of _my_ children and my wife...I don't know what all happened. I was there for a long time, but no more Advent found me. Later, I found out the soldiers were driven off, but I didn't care. My world was destroyed, even if the haven itself survived."

"And the...the _Chosen_ who did it?"

"Gone. Just fucking _gone!_ " Mendoza rose, and his anger came out in a sudden rush. "Gone! Gone into the wind, gone without a care! We were targets to him and nothing more!"

"Whoa!" Liang jumped as Mendoza kicked the bench. The _wham_ and _clang_ echoed in the locker room, but he didn't notice. Didn't care. Rage clouded his eyes, and it hissed from his mouth, dripped from his shouts of hate.

"He didn't _have_ to take that shot! He didn't _have_ to kill her! We were pinned down in that room, and we weren't a threat! _She_ wasn't a threat...he was _bored_ , or he just liked killing things, so he _executed_ her!"

His ragged, heavy, rasping breaths echoed in the stillness and the dark.

"I'm sorry." Those two words took a lot out of him, and his fight faded quickly. "That was uncalled-for. You didn't...I shouldn't have gotten angry."

"You have a right to be." Liang slowly stood, and Mendoza paused when she offered the picture. "Here."

" _Gracias_." Mendoza took it. Again he looked at Isabel's lovely face, thought of a daughter with the curve of her cheek, or a son with her eyes...

"We'll avenge them," Liang promised, and that was a sparking mirror of his own rage in her pupils. "We'll find Dourde, and we'll find this Chosen...and we'll avenge them all."

Mendoza allowed himself to bare his teeth in something that no idiot would mistake for a smile. "I certainly intend to."

* * *

"For the last time!" Gallant rolled his eyes skyward. "John, just tell her that a water purification unit isn't XCOM's area of expertise. The _Avenger_ and her crew are _not_ tech support!"

"I'm not sure what we can do about that," Bradford said instead, making a placating gesture to the screen, and to the beatnik hobo in a snake T-shirt and headband, unkempt hair scattering around her shoulders as she pursed her lips and nodded unhappily. Gallant debated grabbing his earpiece and telling the insistent Swede himself, but he let diplomacy win out and stewed quietly instead, which made all his annoyances and problems go away instantaneously. Bradford mustered a smile. "We'll look into it. That's a promise. No sign of Advent patrols?"

" _Nothing on local comms_ ," the denmother assured him. " _They've been quiet lately. I guess we have you to thank for that_."

"Our pleasure." Bradford inclined his head. "We enjoy being of service."

"Some of us," Gallant echoed, but he kept it under his breath, mindful of the bridge staff and their hungry ears, circled around the holodisplay. They _waited_ for a reason to cease following his orders, _thirsted_ for proof he wasn't fit to lead. Gallant couldn't give them what they were after.

"Enjoy it while it lasts," Bradford continued, which was about as obvious advice as obvious advice got.

" _We plan to_ ," the denmother assured him, with a little smile. " _The water_ -"

"Oh, _God_ ," Gallant muttered, dropping his head into his hand. "Here we go again-"

 _Crackle...fizz..._

"What the hell?" Gallant muttered, as the screen flickered in and out. He frowned. "What's going on?"

"Sir!" One of the techs waved. "Commander, Central...it's interference."

"I can see that," Gallant snapped, instead of about sixteen other irritable replies.

"It's a massive signal coming from the Advent network tower. Commander, it's global." The tech paused. "I think you'll want to see this."

Gallant sighed. "Well, if the transmission's already cut..."

"You just don't want to talk water purification any more, do you?" Bradford asked, smirking. Gallant, studying the ceiling.

"On screen," he ordered, in lieu of responding to his XO. The tech didn't smile, but a few other crewmen shook their heads bemusedly.

The Advent logo appeared on the main screen. Gallant leaned forward, studying it and not for the first time wondering what focus group had come up with the sigil. It looked like some drunkard had tried to write a T, realized what a crap job he'd done, and scrambled to cover it up. It only vaguely resembled an Elder.

"Innmann," Bradford growled, as a single figure appeared before the sigil, on stage with Advent officers flanking him. Gallant eyed the patterns on the sides of the Speaker's neck.

"How much do you want to bet-"

" _Fellow citizens_." Innmann smiled, like a preacher with sunglasses and an army escort. " _For twenty long years, the Advent coalition has worked without pause to bring order and stability to Earth, and wash away the ravages of the Old World with the Elders' giving light. Under our stewardship, our cities thrive, our people prosper...and the world heals_."

"Dick," Gallant muttered. He watched Bradford roll his eyes. "What I wouldn't give for an arc thrower and ten minutes with him-"

" _And yet! And yet among us there are still those who refuse to acknowledge the truth!_ " Oh, he was _just_ like a preacher, spitting hellfire and damnation by slamming his palm on the podium, baring his teeth as he leaned forward. " _Who are determined to see all that we have built...fall!_ "

"And proud of it." Bradford crossed his arms, and Gallant bared his teeth just like the Speaker.

"If they're scared, maybe we can actually-"

"Sir!" The radar tech jumped for attention. "Central, multiple radar contacts are on approach to haven Alpha-seven!"

"What?" Bradford spun. "You're sure?"

" _This...must..._ end _,_ " Innman snarled.

Gallant's stomach dropped out from under him.

"Raise Alpha-seven!" Bradford called. "Denmother!"

" _Even as I speak, Advent peacekeeping forces_ -"

" _Avenger?_ " The denmother appeared for a brief moment. " _Losing you,_ Avenger _-_ "

"You've got incoming!" Bradford shouted. "They're right on top of you!"

She couldn't hear. She couldn't...Gallant _knew_ she couldn't hear, and he closed his eyes and set his teeth.

This was Brussels. He _felt_ it happening...Brussels all over again. How many people...

" _Say again,_ Avenger _?_ "

"Get your people out of there!" Bradford cried. Gallant clutched the rail.

He heard the whine of an Advent dropship, and all of a sudden-

 _Screaming. Weapons-fire. Explosions_.

" _With your cooperation, we will overcome this crisis, and usher in another twenty years of peace and prosperity for our children_."

 _Boom! Boom!_

The shrieking...

"Sir...Alpha-seven's no longer transmitting."

"They don't stand a chance," Bradford muttered.

Brussels. Brussels, and Malin Larsen, and Vahlen and Shen and the Old War and...and...

Commander Edward Gallant opened his eyes.

"Get me boots on the ground." He bored his gaze into Bradford, and he knew the XO was having the same flashbacks as he...and the same glint of determination appeared in his eyes, too. "I want Menace down there _now_."

* * *

"This is haven Alpha-seven," Bradford announced, leaning on the wall in the barracks for support, clutching a handhold tight. The _Avenger_ rocked and bucked in the wind, soaring from Mongolia across the Russian steppes for Sweden as fast as her engines could take her. "It's not well fortified...they thought stealth would keep them safe from Advent's retaliation. Somehow, Advent must have located the haven despite their intense secrecy...some kind of agent on the inside, perhaps."

"How bad is it?" Jane Kelly asked, clutching the arms of her chair. The overhead lights swung as _Avenger_ hit another bout of turbulence, and most of the barracks personnel flinched. Bradford's face was etched harsh.

"Bad," he grunted. " _Very_ bad. There are several teams of Advent soldiers on the ground, supported by aliens. This is not going to be easy."

"We didn't sign up for easy." The words didn't shock Jane, not as much as the fact that it was _Julie Richardson_ who said them. Purple eyes glowed as the newly-minted psi-op rose, pushing past Sylvie Richard to make her way to Bradford's side. "I'm volunteering." She hesitated. "For the third time."

"Me too!" Sylvie rose, hand up. "I'll go-"

"I'm not sending rookies into this shit-show," Bradford snapped. "I'll allow you, Richardson. We need every hand we can get on deck, and you could be the edge Menace needs to stand a chance." He eyed the soldiers. "Sergeant White is still in the infirmary. I need the best we've got."

"Sir." Jane swallowed, suborning her worried, searing inner demons. "Sir, I'll-"

"I appreciate your volunteering, Sergeant Kelly, but I was going to draft you anyway."

"My luck." She rose, adjusting her baseball cap. "I'm all yours, Central."

"Quinn." Bradford waved, as Kelly made her stumbling way to the floor. "Pack up Nessie and get your ass to the hangar. Firebrand is already warming up."

"Sir, yes, sir." The medic rose, pushing past Cameron Rogers and Da-Xia Liang. She bypassed Jane and Julie altogether, hurrying for the locker where her GREMLIN sat in cold storage.

"Brave one, aren't you?" Jane wondered, as she managed to reach the psi-op without stumbling. "It'll be bad, Richardson. You're green."

"But not helpless." Her red-dyed hair glowed in the light, almost as much as that violet shine from her eyes. "I owe them just as much as any of you. For Aunt Penny."

"Nunez," Bradford announced. "I know you _just_ left the medbay, but we need you."

"Of course." The Spaniard made his way down from the crowd. He looked quite pale, and he swallowed as much as Jane, but there was nothing wrong with his courage. "That's four, sir."

"Mendoza." Bradford's gaze turned up through the crowd until he picked out the other Ranger. "This one's going to be in tight and close, Menace. Rangers are the best at tight and close."

"We like to think so, at least." Good to see imminent death didn't affect Mendoza's sense of humor. He worked his way down, until at last he'd joined the assembly of warriors waiting for their dismissal. Jane reached out to pat his shoulder, and he nodded in acknowledgment.

"I'm not going to lie, people." Bradford looked grim. "This is bad. You're walking into what's very likely to be a trap. The aliens have to know we'll respond to a strike like this. The littlest mistake..."

"Then we won't _make_ mistakes," Jane snapped. She ignored the crowd of the left-behinds, from Rogers to Richard to Liang and Aidan MacLeod with his fierce beard. "Just you and the Commander be smart like that too, how about?"

"We'll try." Bradford inhaled. "Firebrand launches in ten. Get your gear, get in the drop bay, and get ready." He inhaled.

"It's time to go to war."

* * *

 **Author's Note 13: Art of War**

Terror/Retaliation missions are a staple of XCOM, and they're utterly brilliant strategy on the aliens' part. Instead of letting XCOM come to them, they force the Resistance to react to their actions, where they can force operatives to fight in confined spaces against whatever strong units Advent can muster. It's no accident that most of your encounters with the big nasties come on these missions, where you have no concealment and have to worry about civvies. No matter what you do, you lose...fighting runs a massive risk of losing you soldiers, and ignoring the mission has severe long-term consequences. Admittedly, they aren't as bad in XCOM 2 as in EW, but they're still bad.

I personally believe anyone in XCOM is a bit messed up mentally. First, they have to have abandoned human culture to start with to join the Resistance, which indicates a severe degree of need or intensity of personality, not to mention luck and hardness. Then you have to make the jump from _haven occupant_ to _Resistance warrior_...to finally catching Bradford's eye, or at least his staff's. That's just to get on the "Hire New Recruits" menu. The Commander still has to actually deign to spend money on you. There's massive potential there for an entire _fic_ about someone just trying to _join_ the Project. Maybe I'll add a subplot about that moving forward?

Until then, _Vigilo Confido_.


	14. Advent Strikes Back

_Please remember to favorite and follow!_

* * *

 _"Confront them with annihilation, and they will then survive; plunge them into a deadly situation, and they will then live. When people fall into danger, they are then able to strive for victory."_

 _~Sun Tzu_

* * *

 **Chapter Fourteen: Advent Strikes Back**

" _Two minutes_ ," Firebrand reported. Julie Richardson wondered if she always sounded so... _tense_. She'd never seen the elusive pilot back on the Avenger, and this was her first drop, but she'd always had the impression Firebrand was a professional.

And that was definitely nervousness in her voice.

"Right, then." Sergeant Kelly rose, and Corporal Quinn too. The pair stood at the far end of the drop bay, checking their weapons, and Julie supposed she should too. She knew her rifle quite well after all her time in the range, and she hoped she could use it well today. How many Advent soldiers or alien leash-holders would be down there...

Evening the odds, she reflected, was the task for her _other_ weapon, and she reached over her shoulder to draw it.

" _Dios mio_." Corporal Mendoza stared when Julie hit the trigger, and a glowing orb of purple psi-energy sprang up between her amplifier's twin tongs. Shaped like a horseshoe with a comfort grip, criss-crossed with exposed wires and elerium crystal focuses, the psi-amp was clearly a rush job thrown together from what spare parts could be scavenged. But for its amateurish, unkempt look, the little thing drew on the ambient psi-energy of the air around just as efficiently as if it were studded with diamonds.

"Sorry!" Julie released the trigger, feeling foolish as all eyes turned to her. She wondered if even Firebrand watched, through the camera feed. "Was just...making sure it worked...didn't mean to unnerve everyone-"

"Julie," Aileen said, "if that _thing_ can even the odds, you test it all you damn well want."

The redhead - _natural_ redhead - mustered a smile, wondering if Firebrand wasn't the only one who was nervous and hadn't admitted it. "I'll certainly try."

" _Sixty seconds. Coming up on the drop point. I see Alpha-seven_."

"How bad is it?" Jane called. Firebrand hesitated.

" _There's a lot of fire_ ," she murmured, and a hollow note rang in her voice. " _I see wreckage. Rubble._ "

" _Do you have eyes on motion_?" Commander Gallant asked. Julie waited just as breathlessly for the answer.

" _Sir...I think so_. _It's hard to tell through the flames._ " Firebrand flicked a few switches. " _I'm picking up scattered life signs. A few dozen survivors, some spread over the approach, most hunkered down in an old church. Definitely quite a few alien contacts. They're closing in_."

"We've got to get down there," Mendoza swore. He rapped Pablo Nunez' shoulder. "You ready, Squaddie?"

"As I'll ever be." Nunez rose, sweeping up his sniper rifle. "Set 'em up for me."

" _I'll be directing this one from the bridge_ ," Gallant continued, and that was a highly _personal_ note in the Commander's voice. Julie wondered what Alpha-seven meant to him...not that she didn't care. He just sounded _so_ invested... " _I expect_ zero _fuckups today, people_."

"Someone tell _him_ that," Nunez might have muttered, with his comm turned off. Then again, Julie might have imagined it, and she certainly wasn't going to rat him out if not. Jane smirked, Quinn rolled her eyes...and Mendoza sucked in breath.

" _Si_ , Commander," he said, and Julie supposed he spoke for everyone. She reached for an overhead handhold, and it was a moment's work to pull herself up, even with turbulence.

" _Fifteen seconds_." With that announcement, the rear bay doors hissed, and Julie swallowed.

"That...that is a _lot_ of fire," she whispered, looking at the orange-tinted hellscape before them. Flames rippled through Swedish trees, set in ramshackle haven construction just as evenly, and even searing from the old fossil fuel cars most haven occupants used. Broken transmitters and relays lay scattered, and the _bodies_...Julie's swallow became more of a gulp, as she beheld burnt skin and figures shredded by mag-fire, the damage visible even from the dropship's stern, in passing at hundreds of miles per hour.

Quinn muttered under her breath. Nunez shook his head, pale and sick. Julie saw Mendoza reach to his breast pocket, as if for reassurance.

"Right. Looks bad." That was understatement of the highest order, but Jane looked to be working hard at moving forward instead of getting caught up in the genocide she beheld. "We drop, we secure the LZ. We wait for orders from _Avenger_ , but we split into teams and work outward looking for survivors in the absence of." Jane paused, patting the shotgun hanging from her shoulder. "Aileen, what am I-"

"Your _sword_ , Fighting Irish."

" _Stupid!_ " Jane swore a bit more colorfully, her accent thickening with her anger. She reached for her weapons storage. "I hate this thing!"

" _In position_ ," Firebrand reported. Lines dropped from beyond the bay doors. " _Hit the road, people, and get to work. Meter's running._ "

"Go!" Jane ordered, while she fiddled with her scabbard strap. "I'll be right behind you!"

"Come on!" Mendoza waved, and he was the first to seize his line and shoot for the ground. Julie swallowed, hoping the landing was only as hard as in the gymnasium during practice.

Then she was the second operative down the line, with Quinn and Nunez hot behind her.

She wondered if she was the only one who prayed on the descent.

* * *

"Menace is on the ground," Bradford reported. Gallant eyed the holodisplay.

"Good. Go in hot: shoot any aliens or Advent on sight."

"Sir." Bradford nodded. "Deployment?"

"Menace, this is Gallant." He examined their flashing blue icons for a moment. "Kelly and Mendoza, secure the church perimeter. Make sure there's no hostiles blocking the civvies' escape route. Richardson, Quinn, Nunez: you've got the building. Sweep the area, take out any hostiles you encounter, and rescue everyone you can." He contemplated his orders for a moment, then had to add to them. "Don't get killed."

" _Roger that, Commander_." Quinn was more diplomatic than most of her team. Gallant imagined the eye-rolling and the scoffing...but then his gaze turned back to the floating visual feeds from Firebrand, and his grip on the rail tightened.

 _God. It's_ just _like Brussels..._

It wouldn't be. It was _not_ going to end the same, if Gallant had to deploy _himself_ to change things.

He set his teeth and waited.

* * *

"So far, so clear," Mendoza muttered, rifle up as he moved through the trees. He spared a glance for the other team, disappearing into the burning haven en route to their destination. "I hear lots of shouting."

"From all around us," Jane confirmed. Mendoza took comfort in having her and her giant shotgun at his left. "I can't place any of it."

"Same." Mendoza's feet fell on dirt, on ash, on scattered bullet casings and discarded dolls and toys. He saw someone's laundry billowing across the charred forest, and he hoped most everything got caught on trees. He didn't have time to grab any of it.

Silence now. Neither soldier spoke, both wary of revealing their position to anyone paying too much attention. They advanced at slow walks, fingers never far from the trigger, hearts racing.

"Damn it," Mendoza whispered, as a woman's shriek filled the air. "Where's that..."

"Ahead." Jane picked up the pace. "We can't be far. Come on!"

They sped up. Together, the Rangers jogged for the source of the noise, teeth set, wincing as they waited to hear another scream, or a howled plea for mercy.

"What I don't understand," Mendoza muttered, as they passed burning trees with lit-up limbs, "is how the _hell_ Advent found this place. Buried in the forest like this? I imagine they had a signal jammer and a disruptor to prevent satellite recon from spotting them. So how on Earth..."

"A man on the inside?" Jane wondered. "I don't know, corporal. But I think we'll find out before the day's done."

Well, that was encouraging. Mendoza took a steadying breath. "Maybe. But-"

Jane saw it first. She shoved, and Mendoza stumbled behind a tree, clutching his rifle as he, too, detected the three figures hurrying their way, mag-rifles in hand. Two were soldiers, with their boxy helmets and boxy shoulders, but the third was leaner, looser, and had something else on her back-

"Contact!" Mendoza shouted. He popped out to shoot, but the Advent soldiers ducked for cover as quickly as he and Jane did, shouting what must have been the same thing in their language. "Multiple contacts ahead!"

"Engage!" Jane cried, and her shotgun _boomed_ an instant later. Buckshot sprayed the dirt, and Mendoza saw one of the Advent troopers stagger from a glancing hit. For a moment, he was exposed, and the Mexican lined up his shot.

 _Crack-crack-crack!_

"Got him!" he cried, as the soldier toppled, ventilated by rifle fire. The Ranger took careful aim at the other one, hiding behind a tree and firing blind around its corner. Red shots whizzed by, and Mendoza and Jane both covered their heads, he pressing his spine into a tree of his own while she crouched behind a moss-coated stone. "When he switches mags, I'll pin him down while you move to flank!"

"Gotcha!" Jane agreed. She readied her shotgun. "Say when!"

 _Bang-bang-bang-bang_...

It happened. The soldier's blind fire paused, and Mendoza snapped out. He took aim, squeezing the trigger to put a burst into the Advent puppet's tree.

"I've got him!" he shouted. "Kelly, go-"

There weren't two. There was _three_ , and the third one burst from the dark in a flash of running feet, gun hanging at her side. Mendoza spun, leveling his rifle as she whipped that long, orange-glowing, crackling _thing_ from her back-

 _Pain_. Pain as the baton rammed into his arm, and volts and impact alike made the limb go numb. She grinned under her circular dome helmet, sadistic glee shining on her stimulant-colored cheeks. Mendoza howled, dropping his gun to grab for his sword left-handed-

The second strike was a slash, not a stab. Hooked tines on the baton's edge caught Mendoza's flesh, and his eyes went wide as he _felt_ his throat ripped out. He choked, collapsing to his knees, hands rising to the rushing flood of red from below his chin, white light everywhere even as the pain became overwhelming-

The stun lancer's third strike wasn't strictly necessary. But the overhead fractured Carlos Mendoza's skull in one hit, and he fell to the ash-stained forest floor at the lancer's feet.

He was dead before he'd even hit the ground.

* * *

"What the hell is happening on the left?" Corporal Quinn demanded. Julie swallowed.

"I don't know," she managed, ducking as a propane tank finally had enough of the fire. Ash floated on the breeze.

"Where are the civvies?" Pablo Nunez scanned through his scope. "I don't see any here."

"Hang on." Julie breathed deeply. She clutched her rifle, trying to see past her eyes, past the screams, past ash and hate and anger and death and the overpowering stench of rotted meat...

"I feel...something...not far." Julie pointed. "That way. Feels like a family. Two families? I'm not sure. Six or seven people."

"Works for me. We clear them, then we clear the church." Quinn beckoned. "On me. Keep it tight."

"Roger, Corporal." Julie took up position at Quinn's left, and Nunez at her right. The redhead - _white_ -head? That sounded like a zit - paused to mop her brow. "I thought Sweden was cold...it's _boiling_ here..."

" _Burning_ ," Nunez corrected, which shut her up immediately. Julie's throat was so, _so_ dry...

"Hold up!" Aileen raised a hand. Julie froze, and her gaze snapped forward.

She saw them, too.

"Contact!" The psi-op dove behind the nearest stack of burning crates, risking the flames to avoid behind hit by the snap-shots from the pair of angry, shouting Advent troopers ahead. Their master shrieked, lithe and pink and dropping to all fours as it skittered behind a tree, big alien eyes full of menace and plasma-gauntly glowing green with energy. Julie took aim and let off a burst, which did a good job of nothing. "Sectoid, two escorts!"

"I see the civvies!" Nunez cried. "Caught in the middle! I think that's the Denmother and a few others-"

" _Engage!_ " Gallant ordered. " _Take the bastards down! Get her out of there!_ "

"You heard him!" Aileen rose, and her rifle roared. "Nessie, shock protocol!"

"Nicked him!" Julie shouted, as her shots grazed a soldier's side. He stumbled, then snarled, pointing angrily at her in a way that made her eyes widen.

 _Bang!_ Nunez' rifle barked, and Julie wanted to cheer when a hole appeared in the Adventer's helmet. He collapsed, but then his companion was laying down suppressive fire, and Nunez had to duck.

Chittering. Chattering bug-noises bore on the wind, and Julie paused as the world seemed to...were things a little more _purple_ than they had been...

 _Haze!_

"No!" Julie clutched her head as _pressure_ burst in her skull. She dropped to one knee as the tendrils of violet hate seared around her, boring from the sectoid's cranial implants and picking at the edges of her consciousness.

 _Kill_ , they called. _Kill, maim, kill! Glory to the Elders!_

"Glory... _glory_..." Julie cried out as it drove deeper, harder, more viciously...

 _Kill! Glory to the Elders! Kill!_

Her hand moved from her head over her shoulder.

"Glory... _glory_..." Julie's teeth set as she hit the trigger on her psi-amp, and a ball of her own searing purple energy burst into her palm. She fought the sectoid with every fiber of her being, and she drew on the field she could now touch. "... _glory_...to _my ass_... _bitch_."

She released the energy, and it blew outward into an inverse fishbowl, doming around her for a half-second of pure protection, driving the alien's power away and off into the sky. The creature yelped, as if the repulsion caused it physical pain. Its flinch brought it into the open, and Nunez' rifle barked again. Though yellow blood sprayed, Julie didn't think the never-sufficiently-damned creature was dead.

"Nice one!" Quinn cried. Julie gasped for air, sweating and shivering, though she did manage a smile.

"Thanks, Corporal-"

 _Crack!_

"What's it doing?" Nunez demanded, as purple light bore in from all sides, vortexing around the fallen soldier's body. "It's...is it-"

"Zombie!" Quinn roared, and Julie's breath caught as she saw _it_ rise, shambling and staggering, posture loose and unkempt, leaning forward with arm dangling as it stumbled across the field of fire, gasping and choking in a most hideous way-

"Kill it again!" Nunez ordered, and he dropped his rifle to whip out his sidearm as the distance decreased. Julie rose to put a burst into the creature-

 _Bang-bang-bang!_

"Damn it!" The psi-op tumbled, clutching her side. She screamed from the pain, her bones chilling as her hand came away bloody. "I'm hit!"

"On it!" Quinn shouted. "Nessie, medical-"

 _Boom!_

Purple. It flew from the edges of the void, and Julie's breath caught as it circled Quinn's head, boring into her ears and eyes, surging up her nose with her shocked inhalation.

"It's..." Quinn jerked, very suddenly, and she even lifted up an inch off the ground, thrashing wildly as the Power ripped into her, burning her synapses and driving strings into her limbs. "IT HURTS!"

"Fight it!" Julie shouted. She scrambled to hands and knees, struggling to move with her side burning. "Corporal-"

"IT'S INSIDE ME!" Quinn shrieked, voice breaking as she thrashed and twitched, head nearly spinning. "IT'S-"

She cut off. Quinn's feet hit the ground, and Julie ground to a halt as the Specialist straightened.

" _It's nothing_ ," she monotoned, opening her eyes to reveal them tinted purple, glowing with alien light. " _Everything is fine_."

* * *

" _Mendoza!_ " Jane Kelly fired a snapshot at the figure looming over her partner's corpse -twitching maybe, but that he was a corpse wasn't in doubt, not with that much blood - but the thing melted into the trees, moving _so_ fast Jane just _knew_ it had genetically enhanced legs. She swore.

 _Mendoza's dead-_

"No time!" she snapped to herself, ducking as red fire shot in from further down the trees. That was the soldier, still in action despite everything, and Jane reached for her belt. "All right, you jerk." She ripped the ring free, then tossed the pineapple it left behind. "This one's for Carlos!"

Motion. Before the grenade had even detonated, Jane saw motion in the corner of her eye, and _heard_ rushing footsteps. She whirled-

 _Bang!_ That was her shotgun, though not it firing. She barely interspersed the weapon between her face and the glowing, crackling stun baton in time, and the lancer shrieked annoyance and hate into her face.

 _Boom!_ The grenade went off, and Jane had to hope it had killed the soldier, because she certainly couldn't stop to look, not now. She kicked-

" _Shit!_ " She staggered as that baton swung low, and her ankle hit the ground shocked and bashed, though thankfully not ripped by those tines. She brought her gun up, heedless of the ache in her leg, but the baton flashed again, and she had to parry. Parry, parry, teeth set, backing up into open ground under the assault-

" _Bit of old vinegars!_ " screamed the lancer, as it ripped the shotgun from her hands. Jane reached up over her shoulder, and in the nick of time she whipped her own blade out, parrying a strike that would have ripped her head from her shoulders. She wove backward, striking where she could but for the most part struggling just to evade or block the incoming swings.

 _Clang!_ sang sword and baton. _Clang! Clang-clang!_

Tines. Tines hooked on Jane's blade, and she was grateful for the rubber hilt as electricity coursed its length. That didn't help her when the lancer yanked and her sword flew from her hands, but it was something, even though the Irishwoman's sword did two full flips and drove point-first into the dirt a good five meters distant.

She lunged. Jane wrapped one hand around the lancer's wrist, and the other caught its shoulder. She heaved, and the _thing_ did too, and for a moment they grappled, knees flying and feet stomping as they sought advantage. Jane set her teeth.

"Oi!" She drove her forehead into the creature's flat nose, and that penetrated its calm. The lancer stumbled, and Jane seized the moment and its weapon. Unfortunately, the thing caught on in the last possible moment, and it threw its baton off to the left.

"Damn it!" Jane punched the Advent loyalist again. "Fine! I don't need a weapon to deal with-"

" _Donut!_ "

That was the trooper, mag-rifle raised as he took aim.

Jane's heart skipped a beat...and that was _before_ the soldier fired.

* * *

"Quinn!" Julie hesitated as the medic loomed, grabbing for her discarded rifle. "Corporal-"

" _Everything is fine, Julie_." Quinn claimed the gun. " _Please remain still_."

"Settle down!" Pablo Nunez seized the medic around the throat, and he hauled her back. "We're friends, corporal! You're XCOM!"

" _Glory to the Elders_ ," Quinn said, and that dry, emotionless monotone sent shivers up Julie's spine.

"Shit!" The psi-op ducked as more shots came in, then took a deep breath. "Nunez, lock her down!"

"Working on it!" the Spaniard cried, before hauling her to the ground. Quinn's rifle scattered, and the two wrestled, rolling across ash and grass. Julie's gaze flicked from the corporal...to the sectoid.

"All right," she growled, grabbing her fallen amp. "If that's the game you want, you son of a bitch, that's the game we'll play." She hit the trigger.

Power. Power searing and power rising, power glowing in her palm. She drew on it and built it up, feeding it from her natural gift and pulling in whatever she could from the auras around her. Her veins and eyes glowed, and she for a moment held a world in her hand.

No gun, no weapon of war, could ever match _this_ kind of power.

"Melt!" she ordered, unleashing her strength. Energy surged through the air, and she did her best to channel it, focusing the acidic, ripping strength she commanded on-

The sectoid shrieked. It skittered from cover, thrashing and clutching at itself, as purple energy literally ate away at its skin, driving invisible, ethereal knives into its muscles and weak points. The creature wailed, and Julie almost felt a stab of pity.

It went away when she looked back at Corporal Quinn, going limp in Nunez' grip as her captor thrashed out its last heartbeats.

"It's down!" Julie cried, as the sectoid fell. She clutched her side, sucking in breath as she watched the zombie teeter its last few steps. Finally, the decrepit thing fell to its knees, and from there the rest was history. "They're down...they're down..." She slumped against her box. "I got him..."

"What happened?" Quinn sounded very dazed. "What did it...how did I..."

"There's still the one left!" Nunez rose, and his pistol blared. "I'm going for the civvies. Quinn, get Richardson patched up and cover me!"

"Be careful!" Julie cried, as Quinn did indeed rise, shaking her head to clear it. She waved to her GREMLIN, and Julie gasped as medical nanobots showered over her mag-wound.

"Always." Nunez vaulted over the boxes, and his pistol roared as he moved. "Cover me!"

"You heard him!" Quinn checked Julie's wound herself, then accepted her drone's work and rose, rifle spitting bursts at the remaining Advent soldier. Julie made her way to one knee, taking aim and adding her own shots to the fray.

She prayed Jane and Mendoza were all right.

* * *

"Gotcha!" Pablo Nunez slid into cover with the Denmother and her family, pausing to slide a new cylinder into his revolver. "They're keeping the soldier pinned down. Extraction is over westward from here."

"Got it!" The Denmother plucked up a child who couldn't be older than four, then waved to the two men and the woman with her. "Come on! Let's get to safety!"

"Go!" Nunez waved them off, swapping for his rifle. He checked it, then quickly reloaded, watching the Denmother, the child, and both men scurry away, heads down. Quinn received them, helping them past the boxes and pulling them toward the camp's edge.

"Hey." Pablo turned and rapped the remaining woman's shoulder, a bit more sharply than he intended to. She jumped, twitching very nervously, and he did his best to smile. "You're covered, don't worry. We've got you."

"Reloading!" Julie shouted, ducking for cover. Quinn was still helping the others out. Nunez turned, sighting in on the trooper.

"Go!" he ordered, promptly forgetting about the recalcitrant woman. He fired blind, putting a shot through a bush in the soldier's vicinity just as incentive to keep his head down. The sharpshooter scanned the area, waiting for even the smallest flash of motion to key him into-

 _Glaaarg_!

"What?" Pablo wondered, as he heard the thrashing, the moaning, the odd _ripping_ noise from behind him. He glanced over his shoulder. "Are you having a seizure-"

The woman was gone. Pablo's eyes went wide as a ten-foot lumbering _thing_ rose behind him, its skin melting and rushing like putty, its eyes red and sunken into its domed hood of a face-

"What the _hell_ is that?" he demanded, spinning to bring his rifle around. " _Corporal_ -"

It lunged. Pablo hit the trigger, but his shot went wide, arcing past the creature's head. He scrambled to work the bolt, backing up as it reached out-

Gushing, flowing hands of putty and putrid stench seized the sharpshooter around the waist, and he screamed as the _thing_ yanked him into its chest. Pablo thrashed, but he had nothing to brace on, and barely any air in his lungs as the creature's skin flowed and broke like mud, sucking him in. It poured up his nose, and after a minute, into his mouth when he screamed. He couldn't breathe...couldn't...

* * *

" _Man down!_ " Corporal Quinn cried. " _We just lost Nunez-_ "

Gallant slammed both hands down on the rail, creating a _bang_ loud enough the entire bridge staff jumped. He shook.

"Mendoza's down, Nunez is down...Richardson is wounded..." Gallant hurled his cane across the bridge, and a tech ducked, covering his head as it clattered down beside him. "This is going to hell! This is a fucking disaster!"

"Menace, report in!" Bradford ordered. He swore when no one responded. "Sir, I think they're all busy-"

"Call Firebrand," Gallant ordered. "Have her...have her move in and..."

"And what?" Bradford demanded. "And _what_ , Commander? Leave Alpha-seven to these _things_ ' mercy?"

"Our people are dying!" Gallant reminded him, at volume eleven.

"They're _all_ our people!" Bradford shot back. "Tell them how to _win_ this, why don't you?"

Gallant seethed. "They can't...their guns...that _thing_ 's just ignoring gunfire..."

"Sir, you can't panic," Bradford snapped. "The team needs you-"

"Comms, get me Richardson and Quinn." Gallant waved to Bradford. "Call Firebrand!"

"Sir, we can't just-"

"Are there any anti-air defenses set up in that area?" Gallant asked. "Radar? Missiles? Plasma?"

"No, sir," a tech replied, stony-faced. "There's nothing stopping her from coming in."

"Sir, you need to-"

" _Call Firebrand!_ " Gallant touched his earpiece. "I never said I wanted an evac order."

* * *

"It's coming!" Julie unloaded every bullet she had, but the towering clay monster shrugged them off, even as its own essence sprayed. It couldn't possibly be unaffected, but it wasn't twitching, wasn't breaking stride as it lumbered her way...

" _This is_ Avenger _!_ " The Commander's voice was thick with rage and thick with worry. " _Quinn, your drone!_ "

"My-" Aileen's eyes lit up. "Nessie, shock protocol!"

"Yes!" Julie shouted, as the GREMLIN obediently shot forward. The towering... _thing_...regarded it for a moment, almost quizzically. Then electricity burst from the GREMNLIN's emitters, and the alien shuddered and roared, twitching in place.

" _Richardson, take out that goddamn trooper!_ " Gallant ordered, as she ducked incoming fire. " _Forget the alien!_ "

"Forget the-" Julie set her teeth. "Sir, maybe I can melt it-"

" _Forget the alien! That's a direct order, soldier!_ "

Julie swore. She grabbed for her amp. "Sir-"

" _Do it!_ " Central chimed in. " _Get the soldier, Richardson!_ "

"Fuck!" But she called on her power, and she ignored the hulking form not twenty feet from her, shaking off the aftereffects of the blast _and_ the scattered fire from Quinn's assault rifle. Julie concentrated on her sensed image of the Adventer, focused on his mind and his weak points, and unleashed herself in a mad blast. Violet light filled the air...and the soldier _screamed_ , clutching his head and stumbling from cover as psionic power ate him alive from the inside out, melting his bones and skin and scorching his mind.

His body tumbled, smoking from all openings.

"Got him," Julie snapped, before pausing as the clay monster loomed. She swallowed, grabbing for her rifle. "It's right on top of me-"

" _Get out of there!_ " Gallant ordered. " _Retreat, soldier!_ "

"I can't-" Julie skittered backward as the alien grabbed, smashing boxes aside like paperweights. She dove for cover as its other hand elongated, reaching for her with fingers open wide. The redhead screamed-

" _Medium rare!_ "

The world shook as the Skyranger screamed by overhead, twin engines turning to hover position. Julie gasped as the backblast of exhaust slapped her, nearly _shoving_ her back a half-dozen paces to her knees.

But what happened to her was nothing, because Firebrand twisted the engines to hang right over the towering clay monster...then gunned them both.

"Holy hell!" Quinn cried, as the Skyranger's engines vomited blue flame. Jet exhaust seared the ground, charring green grass black and boiling crates to slag. Julie covered her eyes, crying out in thanks when the corporal seized her and pulled her out of the way, the pair crashing down behind a fallen tree and shielding their eyes and ears, wincing as the engines _shrieked_ and the alien roared in agony.

And when Firebrand lifted off, she left nothing but a burning puddle of brown goo in her wake.

" _Order up_ ," the pilot growled.

* * *

Jane stared down the barrel of an Advent mag rifle for the umpteenth time, and her teeth set as she almost _felt_ the trooper pulling the trigger. Her fingers tightened on the lancer's arm.

 _Bang-bang-bang!_

" _Ah!_ " the lancer shrieked, as Jane threw it between her and danger, diving backward to avoid shots that ripped straight through the creature's armor and flesh. It staggered, and the trooper hesitated, raising a hand almost apologetically as Jane hit the ground.

She grabbed the first weapon she could find, and though the lancer ducked out of the way, Jane regardless ripped her sword from the ash-coated loam. She hurled it end-over-end across the clearing, hard and accurate enough that it drove into the trooper's chest and nailed him to a tree.

The lancer turned. She didn't have her baton, but she didn't need it. Two steps took her to her friend's corpse, and she ripped Jane's sword free one-handed. The Irishwoman skittered backward on all fours, grabbing the instant she thought she was close enough, feeling her hands wrap around rubber and leather.

" _Donut!_ " shrieked the lancer, hurling Jane's sword. The Ranger drew Mendoza's from his back in a flash, and on one knee she slashed her own blade from the air, throwing out her shoulder from the force and speed of her turn. Her spinning blade cracked from the impact, and when it flew away into the trees, Jane winced to see it shatter in half on a rock.

The lancer lunged, sweeping her baton from the ground. Jane rose to meet her, Mendoza's sword in hand, and weapons locked.

 _Clang! Clang!_ Baton and sword spun through the air, ringing off each other in flashes of electric light. The forest echoed from the dinging and ringing, and Jane struggled to keep her footing, even as she watched her enemy waver as well. Exhaustion drove the Irishwoman on, and she launched herself onto the attack, heedless of her own defense. The lancer parried at every turn. _Clang! Clang!_

Jane scored its arm. It howled, then bashed her hip. Jane screamed, lightning coursing over her side, numbing her ribs. Blood soaked through her armor, but she didn't yield, didn't _dare_ hesitate, as she threw herself back onto the attack. The creature met her, disengaged, swung low enough Jane had to jump, and came around for a high strike to catch her on the rise-

Jane's sword flashed. She cut the lancer's arm off at the elbow, and both the limb and the weapon soared away. Before her enemy could react, the Ranger twisted, driving Mendoza's sword into its chest and straight out the other side, stained yellow.

For a moment, they stood there, both gasping for breath.

" _Bit...bit of old_..." The lancer seized Mendoza's sword, heedless of the edge, and pulled herself forward. She snarled in Jane's face. " _Bit of old vinegars-_ "

"Shut up!" Jane ripped her sword free, and in a flash she decapitated the hideous soldier. Her head sailed away, and the body tumbled a moment later.

Jane fell to her knees, driving Mendoza's sword into the ground for support.

" _Menace...this is Central_." He was tired, he was worn...and he was shocked. " _All hostiles are down. The AO is secure_."

Jane didn't respond. She didn't pull the sword up either. Instead, she lay back against a tree, gasping for breath and clutching her side.

Gently, she reached out to Mendoza's broken corpse, and she swept his eyes shut.

Jane Kelly wept, as ashes fell.

* * *

 **Author's Note 14: Mother****ing STUN LANCERS**

Exactly whose idea it was to give an early-game Advent unit a long movement range, a high dodge stat, better HP than average troopers, a high damage scale(high enough to entirely reasonably one-hit kill soldiers of its equivalent tech level) on a MELEE attack(which can be used after dashing and is by nature highly accurate), a stun chance on attack, _and_ the ability for its attacks to randomly inflict _unconscious_ on your soldiers, which cannot be defended against _at all_ with _any_ equipment, and can only be counteracted if you _happen_ to have brought along a Specialist with Revival Protocol(which has only one use per mission), deserves to be shot. And missed, because _that's XCOM, baby_ , but that's the thought.

In a game with alien fist-punching brutes the size of cars, psionic elders merged with human bodies, early-game mind-controlling low-tier mooks, giant pokeballs of psionic death, and massive chicken walkers with _Pacific Rim_ plasma cannons, the lowly stun lancer will _always_ be my most hated(and feared, I must admit) unit. Nothing tops them. I mean, I nickname Archons "Mary Sues" but that's just because they're damn near impossible to _hit_. They're not super dangerous on _offense_ , especially if you're like me and set them on fire on sight. The Archon King is different, but we'll talk about him in a later note.

Until then, _Vigilo Confido_.


	15. Chains

_Please remember to favorite and follow!_

* * *

 _"Denial, panic, threats, anger...those are very human responses to feeling guilt."_

 _~Joshua Oppenheimer_

* * *

 **Chapter Fifteen: Chains**

Jane Kelly stumped out of the Skyranger's aft bay, clutching her shoulder left-handed. Behind her, Aileen supported Julie, the psi-op struggling to stand as her anesthetics and stimulants wore off, even if her side was no longer bleeding.

Other than them, the drop bay was empty. Mendoza and Nunez were in the cargo compartment, and it made Jane sick to transport them like baggage...but that was all they were.

"You're back!" That was Elena Dragunova, pale and sick in the face. Jane paused, finally noticing the _hangar_ wasn't empty. Far from it: beside Dragunova was Shen, Rov-R hovering over her shoulder, with Doctor Tygan not far behind her. There was Da-Xia Liang, eyes glistening while Cameron Rogers held an arm around her shoulders, and there was a very worried-looking Sylvie Richard...Aidan MacLeod and his loud facial hair, Sophie Weber with her permanent scowl a bit heavier than usual...every single one of the _Avenger_ 's available personnel was turned out with eyes on the Skyranger.

And in the back...

Jane stormed down the ramp. She grabbed the waiting stretcher from the infirmary team, and without waiting for either of the orderlies, she hauled it over to Julie. That done, she turned, working out her shoulder as best she could, nearly _shoving_ crowd members aside. Her fists clenched and unclenched mechanically, even as her footsteps wavered.

"Sergeant-"

Jane shoved her free hand in Central Officer Bradford's face, only bothering to stop when she came face-to-face with Commander Edward Gallant.

"Don't do something stupid," Aileen might have urged, just low enough that she could pretend it wasn't her. Jane took the advice, considered it, and reflected that it was probably wise. Acknowledgment made, she dismissed it.

She let out a long, _hissing_ breath.

"Carlos Mendoza was a friend of mine," she finally growled. "And I knew Pablo Nunez. They're dead."

"I'm aware." That _raspy_ voice...the way he leaned on his cane... "We weren't prepared."

"And whose bloody fault is that, huh?"

"Sergeant!" Central snapped. Her hand went up again.

" _Shut up_ , Bradford." She hoped the seething anger in her voice would stymie the XO long enough for her to finish her thought.

"What did you do?" Jane demanded of her commanding officer. "What did _you_ do to save either of them, hiding back here on the ship?"

Silence. Gallant's gaze hardened and she saw his eye twitch...but he didn't say anything. Jane nodded.

"That's what I bloody well thought." She took a step closer. "That's two more dead on my list, _sir_...and I blame you."

"You can't win a war without casualties." He looked uneasy. He couldn't like this...being put on the spot in front of his entire crew? Shen didn't look any happier than Jane. "Their deaths are regrettable, but people die in war."

"But _they_ didn't have to," Jane growled. "Mendoza never had a fucking chance. If you hadn't split us up-"

Sparks popped up in his eyes. "If _you_ hadn't advanced so recklessly-"

"Mistakes were made," Bradford snapped. His hand went to Jane's good shoulder, and she let him push her back.

"Get off me," Gallant hissed, when the XO tried the same treatment with him. Bradford hesitated.

"Well...like I said, mistakes were made. Everyone has their fair share of guilt for what happened. _Everyone stumbles_ , like the Commander says. What matters is what we do going forward to honor them...not picking fights over their dead bodies. They wouldn't want this."

Jane glared, but not at Bradford. She reserved her anger for the man who deserved it most.

In silence, she turned away, storming for the lockers...and hoping that Mendoza's blood could be washed off her armor before her next op.

* * *

"Just...just _dead_ , like that..."

"Easy." David White reached out and put a hand on Jane's shoulder. "Just take it easy, Irish. You've been through a lot."

"Have I?" she demanded. The Ranger shivered, thinking of carrying Mendoza back to Firebrand...not to mention the battle against the stun lancer. "This whole thing is a mess."

"Yeah." David patted her gently. "Hell of a way to go. At least they went out like heroes. Fighting a fight that mattered."

"A pissant little skirmish in the woods?" Jane rubbed at her eyes, trying to avoid taking out her anger on the Australian. "Mendoza deserved better. Some kind of...a heroic last stand against a bunch of mutons, maybe. Not this."

"He was all right." White eyed her. "How are you? Physically."

"Scratches. Scrapes. That lancer didn't get too many good hits in, surprisingly." Jane rubbed her shoulder. "This and the banging up on my hip are about as bad as it gets for me - and my hip will be fine with a little rest. The shoulder too, I imagine. I just pulled it." Her lips thinned. "Makes me the lucky one."

"I guess." David was quiet. "Shapeshifters."

"Shapeshifters," Jane moaned. "I guess now we know how Advent found the haven. How they _keep_ finding havens."

"They send those alien _things_ in, get 'em to look like people. _Agent on the inside_..." David sighed. "They wouldn't have stood a chance without you. They were sitting ducks."

"Aren't we all?" Jane closed her eyes. "And Gallant."

"The Commander." White shifted in his spot. "He wasn't on the ground. Maybe it wasn't all his fault."

"He had the whole picture. He didn't keep us informed...he could have watched the scanners, notified us..." Jane blew air through her teeth. "This operation is a shit show. And he's not...he's _hardly_ -"

"A legend?" David finished. "Most people aren't, Irish. He's a man, not a myth, and there's a reason they say never to meet your heroes."

"He was hardly _my_ hero," Jane riposted, though she did see the point. The Ranger resumed rubbing her shoulder. "Bradford did well in Paris. He should be Commander, not Gallant."

Quiet. David eyed her, and Jane eyed the floor.

"This war's just getting started," the Grenadier finally said. "We'd better all get our heads straight and our feet under us soon...or I think I know who's going to win it."

* * *

Julie Richardson eyed Jane and David, from further down in the infirmary, waiting as their silence turned to a more friendly conversation about the Australian's own healing. Her now-purple eyes lingered, watching them start doing their best to pull each other from misery.

She shivered. Watching the clay monster - _faceless_ , Tygan had called it - pulling Nunez in and just... _absorbing_ him...couldn't she have done something? She was a psi-op! But there hadn't been time. Hadn't there?

Julie lay back on her white pillow, eyeing the ceiling darkly. These were the spinning thoughts of her day and time, seeking endlessly and picking at the edges of her consciousness. If she'd just realized that woman wasn't running with the Denmother, she could have...if she'd been faster on the draw with her psi-amp when it started changing, or if she hadn't been in the middle of reloading...but it shrugged off her fire as it was...surely that was a question of volume? They couldn't be _immune_ to bullets.

Footsteps. Julie frowned, looking up as someone new made her way into the infirmary, picking her path carefully between empty beds and the occupied ones, maintaining a healthy distance from Jane and David as she came toward...

"Hello," Julie muttered, frowning. "Sylvie?"

" _Bonjour_." The raven-haired Frenchwoman hesitated, about six feet from Julie's bed. "I...wanted to check up on you."

"Did you?" That was odd. Julie didn't recall being good friends with her - no more than with Sophie Weber or Aidan MacLeod, or any of the other rookies. She hit the button on the side of her bed, and slowly it lifted her to a sitting position-

"Oh, no, don't-" Sylvie cut off, sighing. "You should keep yourself comfortable."

"I am," Julie assured her. "Sitting up is good for me." She eyed the rookie for a long moment. "You can see my condition."

"You...you don't look too bad."

"Not _too_ bad," Julie agreed. "A graze hit, more than anything. I hurt, but I'm sure I'll be back on my feet in a few days."

"That's good." Sylvie still stood, shifting awkwardly from foot to foot, and Julie frowned again.

"Spill it," she finally ordered. "You're not just here to check up on a wounded comrade."

"I am!" Sylvie looked down. "Mostly."

"Mostly." Julie put her hands behind her head. "What's your ulterior motive?"

"I don't..." She sighed. "I really do wonder if you're all right."

"Sweet." Julie shrugged. "I'll be fine."

"They wheeled you away from the Skyranger on a gurney-"

"A precaution." Julie winced, sure her cheeks were heating. _Everyone_ had been watching... "Seriously, Sylvie, I'm fine. What's really got you down here? I don't mean to be rude, but I didn't think we were good enough friends for you to just come visit me."

"Well..." Her turn to shrug. "You're the only psi-op we've got. You're special to the crew."

Julie's face flattened. "Am I?"

"You are!" Sylvie eyed her hair for a moment, and that sent another self-conscious pang through the natural redhead's veins. "All the rookies look up to-"

"No, you don't." Julie knew her gaze was hardening, but she couldn't help it. "I'm positive Cameron thinks I'm a freak. He can't be the only one."

"Julie-"

"Why are you _really_ here, rookie? Want to see a psi-op up close? Or is this a dare, and you're the rookie who drew the short shrift to ask the hard questions?" She patted her hair. "Yeah, it's bleached white. Yeah, it's dyed because I don't want to look like an alien fashion reject."

"No, Julie, I didn't mean-"

"Yeah, my eyes are purple now. Those aren't contacts, that's not just power leeching up through my gaze." She crossed her arms. "Discovering my power actually changed me. Want to take some _pictures_ -"

"I wanted to ask about Volunteering!"

Julie broke off. Sylvie shook on her feet as the redhead examined her in an entirely different way.

"I'm sorry," the Frenchwoman muttered. "I should just go." She turned-

"Wait!" Julie sighed when Sylvie actually did. "Sorry. I got touchy, and I shouldn't have."

"You're hurt. Touchy is understandable." The rookie hesitated. "I don't...I should-"

"Sit down." Julie gestured to the chair set beside her bed. "Come on. Have a seat, and let's talk."

Sylvie struggled for a moment, but it was a bit of a relief when she eventually obeyed. At least Julie hadn't outright driven her away.

For a moment, neither spoke.

"So...Volunteering?" Julie finally pressed. Sylvie looked down.

"I'm not sure," she confessed. "I want to make a difference, and I feel like...maybe with that kind of power..."

"It changes things," Julie agreed. "It's worth it."

"Is it?" Sylvie rubbed the back of her neck. "I keep thinking...maybe I should go and do it...but I just keep warning myself off at the last possible second. Those _black sites_ we hear rumors about..."

"Danger's part of being a soldier," Julie said. "The more good you can do, the more dangerous it is. At least, that's how I like to look at it." She smiled at the Frenchwoman. "You should Volunteer. Just do it. Hiroshi would be over the moon to have _two_ psi-ops to work with."

"Maybe." She still eyed the floor. "What would it be like?"

"Well, you'd want to stock up on hair dye," Julie advised, patting her own locks and their bleached tips. "And maybe colored contact lenses."

"I do not think the eyes would bother me much," Sylvie confessed. "I think violet eyes are quite fetching."

"...oh." Julie blinked. "Really?"

"Exotic is good," Sylvie insisted. "Violet is a very nice color for eyes. I wouldn't be concerned at all about that part."

"Huh." Julie turned the thought over. "I guess I never thought of it that way. I just thought it made me look alien. Bizarre, uncanny...like a zombie, or Advent." Sylvie shook her head emphatically, and Julie had to chuckle. "All right! Have it your way." She rubbed her hands together. "Well, if you wanted to Volunteer..."

* * *

"Commander." Konstantine Volikov offered his hand, and Gallant reluctantly swapped cane-hands to take it. "It's good to finally meet in the flesh."

"Yes. It is." Gallant couldn't be bothered to sound like he meant it. He accepted the Reaper leader's iron hand-crushing grip with only a twitch of his eye for protest. "Welcome to the _Avenger_. I'm sure Central's already given you a grand tour." He glanced to Volk's flank. "Outrider."

"Commander." Elena Dragunova saluted a bit lazily for Gallant's West Point tastes, but it wasn't worth a scene.

"Yes, John is quite hospitable." Volk finally backed off, and Gallant did his best not to show how much his hand stung. From the Reaper's barely-hidden smirk, he'd failed.

"Commander." A female voice, now. Gallant turned to the second envoy on his ship, taking her in with an existential mix of confusion, unease, and simple wonder.

"You must be Betos." Who _else_ would have Advent eyes, a bald, scarred head, and those... _implant_ things on her chin? Who else would dress in what was clearly old Advent armor, marked with runes and symbols like Advent's but not, standing at attention as if she had been bred for war and service?

"I am, Commander." She offered her hand, and her grip was much gentler than Volk's. Not from lack of strength, Gallant was sure - but something told him this woman had nothing to prove about her own warrior capabilities.

"Edward Gallant," he informed her. Again he glanced to her head scars, and the tattoos stretching over her neck. "It's an honor to meet you."

"The honor is mine, Commander Gallant." Betos examined him critically for a minute, and Gallant coughed self-consciously.

"I know the cane sends an impression-"

"Many of the Elders' strongest servants do not appear so threatening from the outside. I believe this is true of humanity as well." Betos' eyes weren't full of scorn, but something altogether different. "A soldier's greatest strength is not his body, but his mind, and nothing on the outside could tell me the quality of yours. I reserve my judgment of a soldier until I have seen him in action, and this goes double for a leader."

Gallant had to cough again. "Well...thank you." He glanced to Bradford, skulking at the room's entrance, and the XO shrugged.

 _Well, if she hasn't heard about the clusterfuck in Sweden, let's not bring it up_. Pangs of guilt and shame...

Thoughts of Jane Kelly's fury-tinted face...

"In any event: good to have you aboard." Gallant beamed as best he could, trying to act like he had whenever Van Doorn had come calling, or Shadow Man had sent him into the DC social circuit to schmooze the Armed Services Committee for funding. "This is the Ring." He gestured around the circular chamber and its matching holotable. "The nerve center of our new covert operations division. Once you leave, your representatives will remain here to help us organize and plan."

"I see the table is round," Betos observed. "I detect a hint of classical influence."

"I..." Gallant blinked. "I..."

"Just a moment." Bradford cocked his head, looking just as stunned as his CO. "May I be frank, Betos?"

Those large eyes were cool and contemplative. "I expect nothing less from a commander."

"I did _not_ think _you_ would be the first one to catch the reference," Bradford admitted, quite freely. "Of all people..."

Betos smiled, showing off white teeth. "I have done much studying of your culture."

"Yeah. That's clear." Volk cut his eyes at her, and Gallant reminded himself that though there was an alliance of sorts on the ground, neither of these leaders trusted each other.

 _No weapons in the Ring_ , he decided. _I'll have John put that on the door in bold red_. _And maybe station one of the big wrestler-type soldiers in here just in case_.

"In any event." Gallant cleared his throat. "We have business to discuss."

"Aye. We do." Volk loosened up, just a little. "My people have found Pratal Mox."

* * *

"The facility is located in India," Elena explained, turning the hologlobe over the table so all four assembled leaders could see. Bradford and Volk were stoic, but Gallant looked contemplative. Elena had no skill in reading Advent faces, so Betos remained a mystery to her.

"Guards?" Bradford asked.

"A small detail," Elena explained. She pulled up the requisite information, and it floated next to the globe. "Just a few soldiers and some automated turrets, but there is a full army base not far away. If the alarm goes off, they can move close to an entire division in short order."

"A division." Gallant's eye twitched. "We'd need more than a few dozen rebels and off-the-shelf ballistics weapons to make a dent in a force that size."

"Then we don't try to dent it," Volk chimed in. "We go in quietly."

"A small team," Bradford agreed, nodding. "Two or three operatives, slipping past the defenses without being detected. They find Mox, they get him to the edge of the compound...call Firebrand and get out."

"That could work," Betos agreed. "We would need a team."

"I will go." Elena stood a bit straighter. "I _should_ go."

"Reapers live in the shadows," Volk agreed. Gallant hesitated.

"I might need you here."

"Commander, Mox sacrificed himself for me. This is a matter of honor." Elena did her best not to show her disdain for the Commander who was supposed to save the planet. She needed his agreement. "Besides, I am a Reaper. If I do not wish to be seen, I will not be seen."

"She's right," Volk said. "My people are the best suited for this operation. Elena's spent most of her life learning to move unseen."

"She did infiltrate Paris," Bradford added. "Your call, Commander."

Gallant pursed his lips. Elena waited until she finally saw his fear yield to logic.

"All right." He nodded. "Outrider takes point. But you'll need shadows: if nothing else, pulling Mox from a security cell should trigger alarms."

"Most likely," Betos agreed. "My people will supply what codes we can, but that is no guarantee Advent has not updated security since the last defections from this area."

"Liang." Elena chose the black-clad Grenadier in a heartbeat. "She has the air of one who knows how to walk silently, and she has considerable firepower if we needs must escape under duress. Not to mention I have worked with this woman before, and I know her mettle."

"Take her," Gallant agreed. "And a stringer. Three is considerably better than two, but not as noticeable as four."

Elena let out a breath. "I want Richardson."

"She's in medbay," Bradford objected. "She won't be fit for deployment for a few days yet."

"And we may need her in action," Gallant pressed.

"Not as much as I might," Elena argued. "We are outnumbered and outmanned, and our only hope is in misdirection and stealth. I can avoid detection and Liang can follow in my wake as I chart a path, but Richardson can twist Advent's perception to make them forget what they have seen, or move them away."

Gallant chewed his lip. "We only have one psi-op. I don't like it."

"You can have Aileen Quinn now," Bradford chimed in. "Barring the Commander's objection, that is. If you want Julie, you have to wait at least forty-eight hours until she's on her feet."

"I will wait," Elena decided. "With your approval, Commander Gallant?"

The man leaned on his cane for a moment. He contemplated the holodisplay...before sighing.

"Bring her back in one piece," he finally ordered. "We need her, Dragunova. No matter what happens, I want Richardson back alive."

Elena nodded. "It will be done."

"We can't send Firebrand in that close to the facility, not without triggering alarms." Bradford turned to Volk. "Can your people get them into the area?"

"Just you wait and see." Volk nodded. "I'll start laying groundwork now. As soon as Richardson's on her feet, contact me and I'll arrange the rest."

"And I will find what security information I can," Betos promised, nodding to Elena. "My people will remember what you are doing for one of our own."

"I remember what one of yours did for me." Elena crossed her arms. "Reapers have long memories."

"They do." Volk sounded a little humbled by this exchange. "We'll get the job done."

* * *

"Who the _hell_ ," Edward Gallant rumbled, "does Kelly think she _is_?"

No one responded. There was no one _to_ respond, in his empty office, and Gallant both approved of and resented that fact. Volk and Betos were off to their groups, Bradford was manning the bridge, and Outrider was briefing her team in the medbay while Richardson did her best to heal.

Which left one Commander cycling aimlessly.

"Arrogant little..." His eye twitched as he relived their confrontation, seeing Kelly inches from his face, fury alight in her eyes.

" _That's two more dead on my list,_ sir _...and I blame you._ "

"My list's longer than yours!" Gallant exploded, throwing himself to his feet. He wished she was here, he wished he had thought of those words then in the hangar... "Do you know how many _I've_ lost? Rangers in Iraq, operatives in the Old War, Shen, Penny, _Moira_..." Dropping that name stopped him up short, choking on his own anger. "M...Moira...Vahlen..."

 _Beep!_

Gallant leaned on the edge of his desk, cane forgotten, heart pounding, clutching his chest. He gasped for breath, trying to pull himself back from the ledge of rage.

 _Beep!_

Slowly, he sank back into his chair. The Commander swallowed, resting his shaking hands on the desk's edge, breathing as calmly as he could manage. In through the nose...out through the mouth...

 _Beep!_

"Come in, then," he growled. "Who is it?"

"Commander." Richard Tygan opened the door, and Gallant waited as the scientist saluted. If he'd heard any of Gallant's raging through the door, he gave no outward sign of it. "I have a progress report for you."

"Is it good?" Gallant inquired. Tygan nodded.

"Based on preliminary studies of the recovered stun baton from Sweden, I believe I can add a similar electrical element into a future model of sword for our Rangers. This will increase their lethality in close quarters immensely."

"Good." Gallant nodded. "How far are we from deployment?"

"I believe I will have working prototypes of magnetic rifles and pistols within the week."

"That's a speed increase!" Gallant's eyes widened. "I thought it was _weeks_ , plural!"

"Recovering the weapons from Sweden has changed things. Now that we have access to more magnetic devices to disassemble and examine, the team is confident we understand more of the principles behind their function." Tygan raised a hand. "These weapons will not be available for the raid in India, I'm afraid. Nor have we invested much work in designing long-range or high-caliber variants. Our sharpshooters and grenadiers will be out of luck for the time being."

"Still." Gallant turned the information over in his head, even as thoughts of Sweden kept circling back around to the forefront of his mind. "Good work, Doctor. What about those weapons we recovered?"

"Still no progress on replicating the methods of their construction," Tygan warned. "But they are keenly effective devices. I recommend we begin putting them to good use. Some of their capabilities could be the difference between life and death in the field."

"Yeah. Life and death." Gallant's mood soured quickly. He glared at his desk. "Ask you something, Doctor?"

"Commander-"

"What would you have done?" Gallant looked up at him, clutching his cane in both hands. "Sweden. What did I do wrong?"

"Sir..." Tygan looked a bit taken-aback. "Sir, I am not a military man."

"You watched. You were there." Gallant sighed. "They blame me. Kelly. And the others. What did I do wrong?"

"Commander-"

"Mendoza and Nunez..." Gallant's eye twitched. "If I hadn't...if I hadn't made mistakes..."

"Commander, I am a scientist." Tygan's gaze was serious. "I do not pretend to be an expert on tactical decisions and military strategy. I am a biochemist familiar with alien technology. All I can offer is equipment - and if I had been faster about providing it, maybe it would have provided the edge Pablo Nunez and Carlos Mendoza required." He shook his head. "If any blood rests on your shoulders and not the aliens', Commander, it surely must rest on mine just as evenly. I feel certain Chief Shen would say much the same if you asked her."

Gallant leaned back. He studied the ceiling, very quiet.

"Tygan...what do I do?" he whispered.

"Commander, all we can do is-"

"No, not..." Gallant rubbed his face. "Do I write condolence letters?" He swallowed. "Is there even a mail system? Will they even be delivered? Who do I write them _to_? Do they have possessions that go to next of kin...what do we do with the bodies? Cremate them in the engines? Do we stop to bury them? Do we know their faiths so we can hold a proper funeral?"

"I don't know the answers to these questions," Tygan replied, voice just as low as he seemed to consider them as intently as his CO. "I will convey them to Central. Hopefully he will know, and he can explain to you what to do."

"Hopefully." Gallant rubbed his chest. "Thank you, Doctor. Be in touch if you have any more strokes of brilliance that could make a difference."

"Of course, Commander." Tygan saluted again.

Gallant listened to him leave. He watched the ceiling for long minutes, feeling the vibration as _Avenger_ flew...drinking in the pitch and shake from Bradford's flying.

His eyes fell to Vahlen's picture.

"Two dead...the haven half-burned..." Gallant closed his eyes, dropping his head into his hands as he thought of Kelly, and of plummeting morale. "God."

He looked back to the tattered XCOM flag framing him, hanging like a challenge from the ceiling. The stars, the shield...the latin inscription...

Gallant sighed. "What the hell are we even fighting for?"

* * *

"I'll be back late," Evangeline Moreau assured her son. She hugged him tightly. "And when I come back, I'll be all better."

"Okay." Nathan didn't seem too concerned, which suited his mother just fine. "Will you bring burgers?"

"Not this time, I don't think." Evangeline rose. "Make something nice for dinner, Henri."

" _Oui, madame_." He smiled. "I'll surprise you."

"I like surprises." Evangeline paused to blow him a kiss, then she patted Nathan on the head and turned back down the driveway. "All right, Charlotte. I'm ready."

"Then hop in." Her designated driver patted the passenger seat, and in a moment Evangeline had indeed taken her place of pride. She fastened her safety harness, then waited as the vehicle ran retinal verification on her blonde friend.

"Let's get you twenty-twenty vision," Charlotte encouraged, and Evangeline had to smile at the thought.

The drive didn't take long. Both women frittered it away in casual conversation: discussing work, discussing the Elders' visions, discussing their favorite places to eat. Every block made Evangeline more giddy, even as it seemed to darken Charlotte's worried eyes.

"Still think I'll be blown up by terrorists?" Evangeline had to ask, as they reached the parking lot. Charlotte shrugged.

"I just don't want you hurt," she said. "And they attacked this place once. Who knows what might happen?"

"It's only so notable that they attacked it once because it only _happened_ once." Evangeline unfastened herself, then clambered into open air. Charlotte disabled the engine and followed, and the two started for the Gene Therapy Clinic, making sure they had the requisite security information on their datapads. "And just think! No more glasses?"

"You have a whole look with them, though," Charlotte objected. Evangeline rolled her eyes.

"Spoken like someone who doesn't know the pain of living with them when everyone else has gotten their eyes treated."

They entered. They presented their information. The clerk checked everything, pausing as he looked over their files.

"Is something wrong?" Evangeline asked. He chewed his lip, then shook his head.

"Oh, no. The system's just being slow, that's all. It looks like they've put you in Room Thirteen this time, for the surgery."

"Wonderful!" Evangeline almost wanted to skip down the hall. "May we?"

"You may." And then he waved them on. " _Only together can we build a better tomorrow_."

"Come on!" Evangeline pulled Charlotte down the corridor. "You'll get to see how it works...imagine what you could get done!"

"Maybe." Charlotte didn't seem all that at ease, and Evangeline wondered why. "I'm getting a strange feeling about all this."

"You're just paranoid." Evangeline dismissed her worries. "No terrorists are coming, Charley. I'm positive of that."

Room Thirteen, at the end of the hall. Evangeline paused before the door, taking a deep breath.

"This is it," she whispered. She bounced on her toes now. "Finally!"

"Let's get it over with." Charlotte paused when Evangeline shot her a look. "Sorry. I am happy for you, promise. This place just feels odd to me."

"You're _so_ paranoid." Evangeline opened the door, and she started in. "What could possibly happen _here_ , of all places-"

" _Madame_ Moreau?"

"That's me-" she broke off as the person waiting for her wasn't a lab tech, but-

 _Hiss!_

"What the-" Evangeline staggered as the Advent soldier shoved a strange device in her face, one that burst with green hissing smoke. Evangeline got a good mouthful of it, and she staggered half a dozen paces to the operating table, leaning on it as her legs turned to jelly.

"Evangeline!" Charlotte started for her, but the soldier turned and sprayed her, too. The blonde ground to a halt, collapsing to her hands and knees. She coughed, trembling.

"Close the door," the soldier ordered someone. There had to be more than one of them...Evangeline heard several sets of moving feet, and she struggled to look up. The world spun, and swayed and hissed all at once...she could barely stand.

"What are you..." Evangeline fell to her knees, still holding the edge of the table. She coughed, the world turning green and hazy. "Char...Charlotte..."

"Evange..." The blonde collapsed on her face, and the way she lay still...Evangeline's eyes widened.

"Wait...this has to a mistake..."

"Pack them up," the soldier ordered. He looked down as Evangeline tried to rise, pulling and _pulling_ on the operating table, struggling to get numb legs under her.

" _No_ -" she pleaded, as he put the device in her face again.

 _Hiss!_

* * *

 **Author's Note 15: Structuring**

My initial idea for this fic was that the chapter structure would alternate. One chapter would be an action chapter, featuring a mission in progress - and the next would be set back on the _Avenger_ , dealing with the consequences of what had happened and laying the groundwork for the next mission. I have bent this philosophy a bit - Lost and Abandoned was 2 chapters, and Lost Towers as well - but the concept of "1/2 chapters in the field, followed by 1/2 at base" remains in force. You'll only see me run 3 in a row on the same op or without any op at all if there's a really, _really_ good reason. I even trimmed Lost Towers down to 2 chapters even though I could have spun it into 3 if I'd kept more of the gas/MECs/turrets after recovering the SPARK.

Most of what I write is high fantasy, though the series nearest and dearest to my heart is a low-fantasy steampunk nautical adventure story. Think ATLA meets _Pirates of the Caribbean_ with steampunk elements thrown in for flavor. I only say this because writing VC is something altogether different for me - I very _rarely_ write contemporary/future tech settings. You might have caught a glimpse of my comfort level with the more "fantasy" style action choreography last chapter with Jane v Stun Lancer...sword duels are something I know my way around, due to all the times I've written them, and my experience as a martial arts instructor.

Until next time, _Vigilo Confido_.


	16. Smoke Signals

_Please remember to favorite and follow!_

* * *

 _"I wish it need not have happened in my time," said Frodo.  
"So do I," said Gandalf, "and so do all who live to see such times. But that is not for them to decide. All we have to decide is what to do with the time that is given us."_

 _~J. R. R. Tolkien_

* * *

 **Chapter Sixteen: Smoke Signals**

Edward Gallant hated bagpipes. Not because he disliked the music - as a child, he'd been quite fond of them - but because he remembered all too many days like this. The music ringing in the air, the crowd assembled...

And two coffins moving along the _Avenger_ 's landing pad on rolling gurneys.

Aileen Quinn and Jane Kelly pushed Pablo Nunez, one on each side, while behind them it was Cameron Rogers and Da-Xia Liang with Carlos Mendoza. Julie Richardson had come up from the medbay, leaning on her surprise newfound friend Sylvie Richard with a nurse hanging within six paces at all times, sharing attention between the psi-op and David White, doggedly standing unaided. There was Elena Dragunova, there were Aidan MacLeod and Sophie Weber...Shen and Tygan stood at the far end of the impromptu corridor formed of the two soldiers' shipmates, and Gallant and Bradford at this one, mere feet from _Avenger_ 's starboard flank.

Wind curled over the deck, which hummed with the roaring throb of anti-grav fusion engines. Their whine filled the air, but the song carried well over it, played by a few of Tygan's science detail. Shen had offered to set up a sound system and play a recording, but Gallant and Bradford had been in agreement: a funeral called for live music.

So Gallant listened to the bagpipes, and reflected on how much he hated _Going Home_.

The bearers stopped their charges at the side, and Gallant nodded to each one in turn. He still saw anger in Kelly's eyes, but at least she realized now wasn't the time to express it. Quinn kept her on course, while Liang let Rogers lead her to the side, glassy-eyed and shambling. What Mendoza had meant to her, Gallant was afraid he could guess, even if he would never ask.

The music faded. Gallant sucked in breath.

"Just like the old days, sir," Bradford encouraged. Gallant nodded, as all eyes turned to him.

"Good morning, XCOM." His voice did carry through a speaker system, broadcasting from Shen's GREMLINs, set around the gathering in strategic places. He tried not to clear his throat. "I had hoped that my first public address to the organization would be one of hope, or of clarity and victory...rather than one as grieving as this."

They waited. Gallant reached out, putting one hand on Mendoza's coffin, just lightly enough to be respectful yet draw attention to the multicolored displays wreathing it.

"Corporal Mendoza and Squaddie Nunez were your brothers," he said. His throat caught as he thought of just how many times he'd given this speech, or a variation thereof. He thought of shell-shocked Malin Larsen, and how _many_ times she'd wheeled half or more of her team through the base cemetery, while Gallant watched and berated himself, leaning on Penny in spirit and cane in body. "To you, they were friends and comrades. You entrusted your lives to them, and they to you, on more than one occasion. They were good men. They volunteered for this war, and no one could fault their bravery."

He tugged on the cloth over Mendoza's coffin. "These men died believing not in Advent, but in the power of humanity, and of their own home countries. They go now wreathed in their home colors, and I think Mexico and Spain could not have been done prouder by any soldier they have ever produced. But though they are gone, they are not forgotten, and their deaths were not in vain." His hand moved to the _other_ flag on Mendoza's coffin, draped over where his legs ought to be. "A son of Mexico, he was; but it was for _Sweden_ and its people that he died. The Swedish Resistance insisted he be buried as a Swede as much as a Mexican, and the same for Nunez. In that example, we can see the unity of the human race - brought on not by alien conquerors hell-bent on a singular world dominion, but forged by the humanity we all share, and the hearts that beat the same no matter from where we come.

"Pablo Nunez and Carlos Mendoza were brothers to each other, and to all of you." Gallant straightened. "But I am your Commander. To me, they were as my sons, as all of you are my sons and daughters."

Kelly looked unhappy, but Shen's eyes softened. Many in the crowd looked down, or away, and Gallant knew what that meant. He sighed.

"Mistakes were made," he admitted. "Many of them my own. I take full responsibility for the faults of incompetent ability on my part that led to where we stand right now, but all we can do is move forward, and that is what I intend to do. Mendoza and Nunez _did_ not, and _will_ not, die in vain." He leaned forward on his cane, teeth set. "And we will never forget what they have done, not here on the _Avenger_ , and certainly not in Sweden. They died as heroes, and they will be buried as such."

Silence. Wind pulled at Gallant's coat, and it played with the hair and clothes of all the assembled. The Commander turned to the two bodies, then to Bradford. He nodded.

" _Pre-sent_ arms!" the XO ordered. Gallant waited as six rookies raised rifles loaded with blanks, taking aim at the sky-

" _Fire!_ "

 _Crack!_ A loose volley, that brought back a thousand memories from a hundred funerals. Gallant thought of his command in Iraq, his soldiers in the Old War...

" _Fire!_ "

 _Crack!_ Gallant saw Tygan flinch. Shen had tears in her eyes, and Gallant wondered if Bradford had put her father to rest this same way. He'd known Gallant's funeral speeches every bit as well as the Commander himself did...

" _Fire!_ "

 _Crack!_ The detail lowered their rifles, and Gallant took a breath as the sound of the shots was snatched away by the wind. He waited as soldiers from each of the three countries honoring the fallen took the flags and folded them away.

"It's time," Bradford finished, and the two coffin details approached. They took their gurneys, and they rolled them right to _Avenger_ 's broad flank. Gallant turned to watch.

With the flick of two switches, Jane Kelly and Da-Xia Liang lifted the rear end of each gurney, and Mendoza and Nunez slid quietly into open air.

Gallant didn't bother looking down at the rushing Mediterranean waters, not like the crowd that pressed past him. He just leaned on his cane, closing his eyes while the ocean wind pulled at him and the scent of sea salt overwhelmed his nostrils.

 _How many_ more _times am I going to have to give that damn speech_?

* * *

"Julie." Elena Dragunova patted the psi-op on the back, as she limped into the hangar bay with Sylvie in her wake. "Good to see you about."

"Good to be about," the redhead muttered, pausing to check her amp and her rifle. "Where's Liang?"

"Finishing her preparations." Elena took comfort in the weight of her vektor on her back, then set to pacing with hood down. "Possibly spending a moment to mourn."

Julie looked down. "I know Mendoza was her friend. It must be hard for her."

"We have a job to do, and bitching about me isn't it." Da-Xia Liang's appearance made Julie jump and stutter, but then the black-clad Grenadier stormed her way to the center of the bay, machinegun and grenade launcher ready, carrying a backpack of spare munitions. "So let's focus on doing that, shall we?"

"...right." Elena overrode Julie's mumbling attempts at apology. " _Avenger_ is on station over the Indian Ocean right now. Firebrand will drop us on the mainland not far from New Madras, where we'll meet my Reaper contacts, Raj and Mordecai."

"And they know how to get into this prison," Julie finished. Elena nodded.

"They will guide us through the security perimeter or we will all die in the attempt," she agreed.

"Comforting," the psi-op grumbled. Sylvie looked similarly nonplussed.

"You'll be careful, won't you?" she asked. Elena blinked slowly.

"Yes. Very."

"Good." The Frenchwoman mustered a smile, directed at her new friend. "If you died, I'd have to Volunteer to take your place."

"You should do that anyway," Julie encouraged. "The lab will be empty while I'm gone. Talk to Hiroshi."

"Don't," Liang shot in. "For your own benefit, just don't."

"I think having another psi-op would be of immense benefit to all of us," Elena objected. She threw up her hood. "But for now, we have more pressing concerns."

"Whatever." Liang started for the Skyranger. "Let's get aboard before she leaves without us."

"She can't." But Julie dutifully started for the dropship, pausing only to wave goodbye. Sylvie waved too, watching her new friend ascend the ramp on the road to battle.

"I will return her," Elena promised, voice low. "The Commander has already impressed on me her importance to the Resistance. You need not worry about the future of our war effort."

"I..." Sylvie nodded. "I'll try not to. But the thought of not having a psionic on _our_ side is just...it's frightening."

"It will not come to pass," Elena repeated. She clapped the Frenchwoman on the shoulder, then turned for the ship. "We will return in a week's time, and with Pratal Mox at our sides."

"Fair travels!" Sylvie urged, as Elena started up the ramp into the Skyranger's belly. "Good luck...and give them hell!"

* * *

Consciousness, in a flash. Or...was it consciousness?

Yes. Yes, it was: though it came slowly, in fits and starts, she was sure this was indeed the waking world. She hurt all over, lying on her back on something hard, surrounded by this sickly emerald _glow_...

Evangeline Moreau's eyes went _wide_ as she remembered what had happened in the Gene Therapy Clinic.

Glass. That was glass over her head, framed with hexagonal black supports, and Evangeline frantically reached for it. Or, she tried. Her arms wouldn't respond. Neither would her legs, nor her shoulders or head, and though she tried to shriek as she discovered how little autonomy she possessed, her jaws wouldn't open. It came out muffled and broken from behind clenched teeth.

 _What's happening to me?_ It was the only thought she could think of. Her eyes darted left and right, and her heart raced. She moaned in terror as she made the mental connection between her green and black prison and a coffin, and the size and shape and nature of her confinement was almost identical. It _hummed_ softly, and somehow Evangeline was certain that was the cause for her immobility.

She screamed. She tried to thrash and twist, struggling against the confines of the energy field that pressed down on her. When that did no good, she hoarsened her throat, but the noise only seemed to echo in on her...echoing, and echoing...

 _Stop!_ Evangeline told herself, realizing it wasn't going to do any good. _Stay calm. Stay calm...there's been a mistake somewhere. Just wait for your chance and you can explain that to someone. Or maybe this is preparation for surgery? It would have been nice to be warned, but...but..._

She was grasping at straws. What kind of surgery prep involved soldiers in the room? What kind of _mistake_ would lead to being locked in some kind of forcefield-coffin like this? But it helped keep her sane and patient, and that was what she needed.

She didn't know how long she waited. It might have been hours...it might have been days. It was a long time, she knew that much, but she didn't sleep, and none of her other bodily functions made themselves a nuisance. Numb in all limbs and unable to lift her head to look at herself, it took Evangeline most of this time to realize she was also naked.

Finally, she saw motion through the green, even without her glasses, and her eyes widened.

" _Six-seven-three-four_ ," muttered a voice outside, and Evangeline strained to hear it. " _And three-five, from Paris_."

Someone else? Evangeline's heart flew into her mouth. Charlotte must be next to her. Her being here was bad enough, but her friend's being involved...suffering like her...

This _couldn't_ be normal.

" _Where are these two headed_?" wondered someone else. " _With the rest?_ "

" _Yeah, just like the rest_." Someone grabbed one end of Evangeline's coffin - and she _had_ to stop thinking of it like that, or she'd panic - and then someone else the other. She tried to get their attention, shouting and wishing she could bang on the glass-

" _They should arrive at the black site day after tomorrow._ "

Evangeline had been wrong. She'd thought she was close to panic before.

She _shrieked_ , thinking of the darkened rumors she'd heard about places like _black sites_ , and resumed her frantic thrashing, heedless of how every movement was arrested by that accursed _field_. Her eyes darted left and right, peering through the green in the hopes of-

Her jaw would have dropped had she any agency. Picking through the haze of her faltering vision, she saw another container...and another...and another and _another_...there had to be hundreds of them, all stacked in orderly rows like packages for shipment.

They set Evangeline down. They left. She squirmed and shouted and screamed, but nothing she did provoked a response.

Her eyes turned left and right, and she saw containers on both sides. She saw a roof overhead...but only for a moment.

She screamed as another container was set overtop of hers, and continued screaming for what felt like hours as she heard more and more put into place.

Long before the train was fully loaded and began its journey to the Advent black site, Evangeline had made the discovery that, stasis field or not, she could still weep.

* * *

 _Bang! Bang-bang-bang!_

Gallant had never fancied himself an earth-shattering marksman. A capable close-in combatant, yes, and certainly not a _bad_ shot, but there was a reason he'd never become a sniper. Patience wasn't his strong suit by anyone's definition, and that had been true _before_ his crippling.

But _firepower_ was something he appreciated, and even if he had to lean his hip against the firing range wall while he supported and aimed the glorious device in his hands, he _relished_ the way it ripped apart its downrange target. An Old War sectoid would probably have lasted _less_ time than the fragmenting, shattering plywood frame Gallant hurled magnetically-accelerated rounds into.

"It's a damn fine gun," the Commander muttered, as he lowered it. He studied the broken remnants of his target, and almost sighted in again to continue its demolition down to the atomic level. "You've done good work over the last week. This should even the odds on the ground a good bit."

"Advent will upgrade its armor and equipment when they find out we're using these," Shen warned, accepting the rifle. Gallant grunted, sweeping the magnetic sidearm she'd prototyped up from its own resting place.

"Granted. But we still have a window to act." He claimed his cane, too, and took a side-on Wild West gunslinging stance, instead of the efficient two-handed grip they'd taught him in Basic. With one hand needed for support, he had no choice unless a convenient hip-bracing table presented itself.

 _Bang!_ An orange tracer appeared for just a fraction of a second, then what was effectively a railgun pistol round hit one of the heavy crates the sectoid target had been braced on, and Gallant snickered when the crate shifted backward from the blow, rattling in place.

"How many do we have?" he asked, after taking three more shots just to shove the crate from its position. "Ammunition?"

"We should be able to keep up with munitions requirements," Tygan said, from Gallant's other flank, "but at the moment these prototypes are our only examples of magnetic weapons. We should be able to produce more over the next few days using the _Avenger_ 's fabrication unit."

"Good. Consider that a top priority." Gallant lowered the pistol. "And what about armor?"

"Still working on it. We don't have an awful lot of alien alloys-"

 _Beep! Beep!_

"Oh, shit. That's me." Gallant reached up to his ear. "Gallant."

" _Sir_." That was Bradford, and Bradford sounded...

"John...are you concerned?" He frowned, and Shen and Tygan traded looks. Gallant set his teeth. "What's happened, Central?"

" _Sir...we've triangulated Big Sky's point of origin_."

Gallant stiffened. "Where?"

" _Southeast Asia. We're changing course now, but..._ "

"But what?" Gallant stumped for the door, forgetting all about his science and engineering divisions. "What is it, John? What's going on?"

" _Sir...we've picked up a transmission_." Bradford let out a breath. " _Sir, it's Doctor Vahlen_."

* * *

"To Mendoza!" Jane raised her glass. "To Nunez!"

"To the fallen," Aileen echoed, and they toasted. They showed their respect for lost friends in the oldest way humanity knew how, and for a moment both Irishwomen were quiet as the bar mumbled around them.

"Two more names on the wall. Two more names on the list." Jane sighed. "At least it's not three, or four. You and Julie made it out all right."

"Girl power, I guess." Aileen moodily studied the table, eyes dark. "We almost didn't."

"How are you?" Jane reached out to put a hand on her friend's shoulder. "I heard what happened."

"I still think...sometimes, I think I still hear its voice, even a week later." Aileen shivered. "Like a whisper from the edge of my hearing...the kind of thing that makes you turn around and look, until you remember it's not real."

Jane grunted. "And you've-"

"I got myself checked over. Hiroshi and the psi-team say there's no trace of the alien left in my brainwaves." She mustered a grin. "Nothing at all they can detect."

"Comforting," Jane muttered. "Very comforting."

"You're telling me." Aileen leaned back, taking a deep drink.

Jane glanced at the memorial wall. Only four pictures, but there were so many more who _could_ be there... _should_ be there. Her old friends, David's old team, the Resistance members from Sweden...

Why had she lived, when no one else had?

"Aileen-"

" _Mission Alert! All hands, report to general quarters!_ "

That _klaxon_ went off, and they both flung themselves up at a moment's notice. Jane paused to finish her drink, then slammed her shot glass on the bar.

"Let's go be heroes," Aileen suggested. Jane couldn't help sparing a glance for the memorial wall.

"Heroes," she mumbled, wondering if they even _had_ a picture of her to put up if she went down in action.

But regardless, she followed Aileen out of the bar at a scurry, trying to make sure she remembered her sword this time.

* * *

"Play it again."

"Yes, sir." The tech pressed buttons, and Commander Gallant gripped the rail, jaw working in what was probably a very unhealthy way.

Interference. Static, flickering in and out, back and forth. It twisted and grated, striking at Gallant's ears and soul.

But it was also oh, so glorious to hear, filling him with mixed hope and trepidation.

" _...throughout this area...are of particular concern...all attempts should be made..._ "

"It's her," Gallant whispered. "That's Moira. It _has_ to be her."

"We can only hope." Tygan stood at another console, and Gallant turned his attention. The scientist chewed his lip. "Sir, there are a number of unusual energy signatures in this area - temperature variations, psionic energy, and the like. You know what that means."

"Someone fought someone," Gallant agreed. He inhaled. "Doctor, man the bridge. Keep tabs on those signals."

"Commander." Tygan saluted. "If I may ask-"

Gallant waved him down. "Listen. When Central gets here-"

"Finish that thought."

Gallant paused. He turned, and his cane thumped as what was at first just a glance became a full about-face.

"John..." Gallant's eyes hardened, and _hardened_ further, when he took in not just the XO's craggy features and harsh-set gaze, but the rifle hanging from his shoulder, and the hilt protruding from over his other one. " _John..._ "

"Sir, I'd like permission to deploy with Menace," Bradford said, sketching a salute.

Gallant's eye twitched. "Denied."

"Commander, you and I both know what Vahlen meant to our operation-"

"Which is why you'll be manning the bridge, Central." Gallant started down the steps from his raised podium. "Let Sergeant Kelly know I'll-"

"You'll what?" Bradford took a step, and in a moment the two men were in each others' faces. "Sir, I'm afraid I can't let _you_ go into a combat zone."

"You don't have the authority to stop me, _central officer_."

"We're not military any more. I'll have Shen's pet robot sit on you if I have to."

Gallant tightened his grip on his cane. "Just try it, old man, and _I_ won't be the one slack-jawed in the infirmary."

"Sir, no one questions your personal gallantry." Was that a pun? Gallant almost whacked the XO on that alone. "But you can't go into a potential firefight."

"I'm hardly a cripple," Gallant seethed. "If you think I am, let's find a boxing ring. I'll hold my damn own."

"Sir, that's not it." Gallant wasn't sure if Bradford meant it or not, but he chose to disbelieve him on general principles. "I know you're a soldier of rare skill, cane or no. We've gone toe-to-toe before, and I remember who came out on top - and that was in my prime."

"Then you know you can't stop me-"

"Volk and the others need you in one piece. Shadow Man." Bradford shook his head. "You are this organization, Edward. We lose you, we lose the war. I'm..."

Gallant paused. "Expendable?"

"Certainly more so than you."

Gallant shook his head. "Bradford...it's Moira. I can't just leave her there."

"We're sending Menace-"

"I _have_ to do this myself," Gallant snapped. "I owe it to her. After everything, I _owe_ it to her to-"

"That's why I'm going," Bradford insisted, reaching out to put a hand on his CO's shoulder. " _For_ you. I got you out of Paris, and I can get Doctor Vahlen out of this place. I swear to God, sir: if Vahlen's down there, either we both leave or neither of us does."

Gallant ground his teeth. "It has to be me."

"No. No, it doesn't." Bradford squeezed his shoulder. "Let me do this, sir. You lead from the bridge, and I'll be your point man on the ground. We'll do this together. As a team."

Gallant struggled. He clutched his cane and he clenched his fist, and he couldn't stop grinding his teeth back and forth for long minutes. Thoughts of Vahlen, and honor, and how long it had been since he'd seen her...

And the nagging thought about what Vahlen herself would have to say, or Penny, if either of them were involved in the decision-making process.

"All right, John." Gallant let out a long breath. "We'll do this your way."

* * *

 **Author's Note 16: Emotional Investment**

I enjoy action scenes. They get the heart pounding, they're fun, they're badass, and so forth. I love watching them, and I love reading them. There's nothing like a big battle to really get me interested in something and make me love a work.

But for my own purposes, I always remember the quote from the audio commentary of _The Legend of Korra_ 's season three finale. I forget which of the developers said it, but he was remarking on the scene where Korra and her father were embracing before everything went down, and he said(paraphrased):

" _Without scenes like this, none of the rest of it matters_."

I can write action scenes until the cows come home, and I can out-Michael Bay Michael Bay when it comes to explosions and dramatic vistas of things coming apart. But if my readers aren't invested in the people about whom any of it is happening, all I'm doing is out-Michael Baying Michael Bay.

Since that revelation - despite how I know it's Writing 101 - some of my favorite scenes to write have become the quiet drama scenes, where my characters really have to contemplate what they believe in and why they're willing to fight for it. I hope you're enjoying them too.

Until next time, _Vigilo Confido_.


	17. The Nest

_Please remember to favorite and follow!_

* * *

 _"_ _Soldiers, when committed to a task, can't compromise. It's unrelenting devotion to the standards of duty and courage, absolute loyalty to others, not letting the task go until it's been done."_

 _~John Keegan_

* * *

 **Chapter Seventeen: The Nest**

"That," Julie Richardson mused, peering prone from a high bluff at the lights below, "is an _installation_."

"No shit?" Da-Xia Liang looked remarkably impressed. "I guess that's the good part of bringing a psi-op. They can tell you things no one else possibly could. I thought the lights were from the Advent Folk Music Festival."

"Sorry." Julie winced. "I was just...I just meant..." She coughed into her elbow. "I guess-"

"Not now." That was Outrider, leaning half-over the bluff herself, mask's eyes glowing as she scoped out the landscape. Julie looked out with her, and there was that unpleasant twinge of dread again as she took in the scattered buildings and Advent turrets, and the black-clad soldiers on patrol all around.

"It doesn't look easy to break in," she muttered.

"Easy and possible are different things." Elena eased back, and she waved to the other two figures behind the team. "We can get down this cliff, but I don't want to risk coming back up it with Mox and possibly under fire. Meet us on the north side. See that riverbank up there?"

"Exposed," the Reaper known as Raj observed. Julie didn't like him, nor did she like his friend Mordecai. The pair were quiet, stoic, frightening, and decked out in dark coats that made Elena's look fashionable and understated. And she was pretty sure those giant hand bombs on their belts carried more explosive stopping power than some sections of the _Avenger_.

"I'm not green. I know that." Once Elena was safely out of sight from the base of the cliff, she got her feet under her and rose. "There's rocks in the trees on the near side of the bank. We'll make it seem we're fleeing down the river, then hit the rocks and push your way. Be alert: we'll probably be pursued."

"Got it." Raj checked his rifle, nearly a match for Elena's. He glanced to Julie and Liang for a moment, and the psi-op wasn't sure she liked his searching gaze. It was as if he was deciding whether it would be a stun lancer or a priest that finished her off.

"Okay, that's extraction," Liang muttered, as she scooted back and came up on one knee. Julie hurried in her wake, digging her elbows into the loam and trying to do her best " _unthreatening moving bush_ " impression. She suspected she'd come across more as " _large, dumb lizard_ " but that was just as unimportant to Advent, regardless of their love affair with vipers and mutons.

"Problem, corporal?" Elena glanced down. Liang scoffed.

"How do we get in, _corporal_?" The ninja impersonator rose, eyes hard in her neat little vision slit. "I see turrets, I see patrols, and I don't see any boxes to hide under."

"We get in by being quick and smart," Elena offered, which wasn't very helpful at all. Julie sighed.

"This is going to be difficult," she muttered. She froze when Liang cut her smoky, irritable eyes the psi-op's way. "That came out wrong!"

"Button up, ladies." Elena claimed her vektor, and she tossed Julie's assault rifle. The natural redhead caught it, sucking in breath. "I'll take point and you'll follow. Don't do anything stupid."

" _Stupid_ meaning..." Julie coughed. "What, exactly?"

"You," Elena clarified, with a twitch of her eye, "just don't do _anything_ unless I order it."

"...makes sense," Julie had to allow, even as her cheeks heated. "Yes, ma'am."

* * *

"I remembered it this time!" Jane patted the hilt over her shoulder. "Well, mine's broken, but I remembered my replacement!" She chose not to mention how her _replacement_ was a hand-me-down from XCOM's other former Ranger.

"Good on you!" Aileen looked quite unreasonably proud. "You're finally growing up, Irish. Maybe soon I won't have to help you pull your trousers on in the morning."

"Shut up." Jane paused, ignoring David and Cameron Rogers' chuckling. "Aileen?"

"Jane?"

"What the _hell_ is that?" She pointed to the...the...whatever it was in the Specialist's hands. "Is that a rifle or a bow?"

"We're calling it the _Bolt Caster_." Aileen's pride leaked into her voice. "Kind of a slow shooter, but you should see the stopping power. This baby could take out a muton."

Jane blinked very slowly. "That's one of the things recovered from the plane wreck, isn't it?"

"We're all shipping with that stuff," David pointed out. He held up a blue-glowing device. "I've got this canister full of what passes for your heart, Irish."

"David, shut your mouth before I have to stick something in it." Jane scowled while he laughed at her, and deliberately turned back to Aileen. She patted her shotgun. "I still can't see any situation in which I'd rather use _Glamdring_ than this-"

"You said you couldn't name it _Glamdring_."

"Yeah, but I don't see why." Jane fumed. "There is _one_ Ranger on this ship: me. Who in the hell else uses a sword who would name it _Glamdring?_ "

"Listen up, people!"

"Central?" Jane turned. "What are you-"

"You remember Rookie Weber?" Bradford waved on the blonde at his side, and she gravitated over to the team, poised at the base of the Skyranger's ramp. "She'll be coming out with us today, like Rookie Rogers."

"Lovely. Half the team's green." David chewed on that nauseating fact for a long moment. "We're fucked."

"Don't sound so confident," Rogers snapped. He deliberately took a step to Sophie Weber's side. "We can hold our own. I've fought the aliens before."

" _I_ was raised in a remote community," Sophie added. "I learned to shoot and survive on my own while you were living it up in the city. You're the deadweight."

"Is that a fact?" David raised an eyebrow. "I think-"

"Soldiers." Bradford redirected their attention immediately, and Jane finally noticed his kickass assault rifle, and the blade on his back. "I'll be taking the lead on this operation personally."

"You're kidding," Aileen objected immediately. "You're..."

"I'm...what?" Bradford eyed her. "What _am_ I, Corporal?"

"You're..." She swallowed. "...old."

"Damn straight I'm old," Bradford agreed, while Jane winced and the rookies snickered. "It means I'm not dumb. I wouldn't have lived long enough to grow old if I were."

"Can't fault that logic," Jane mused. "Long as you can keep up with the kids, _sir_."

"Watch me." Bradford eyed her. "You've got your sword."

"Mendoza's, but..." Jane frowned, noting the XO's intense glare. "Is that a problem?"

"Did you, or did you not, bother to _read_ your gear orders?"

"Um." Jane chewed her lip. "Well, all that list has ever read is ' _sword and shotgun_ '-"

"You clearly aren't in the habit of reading it, or you wouldn't keep misplacing your blade." Bradford reached out and, without ceremony or warning, unbuckled her scabbard strap. "You're shipping out with something a bit different today."

"Oh, joy. It's live-fire gear testing." Jane sighed, watching Central lay her blade down on a box. "You know, I never realized how attached I was to the murder machete until it was taken away..."

"That box over there." Bradford nodded. "Should be a set of axes inside."

"Bloody _axes_?" Jane demanded. "Sir, with all due respect, I thought I was reclaiming the throne of Gondor, not fighting my way through the mines of Moria."

"Take two. One for slashing, one for throwing. Trust me, you'll love them." Bradford gestured. Jane scowled.

"Can I name _this_ one _Glamdring_?"

"I thought you were reclaiming the throne of Gondor." Bradford crossed his arms. "Axes, sergeant."

"I'm going, I'm going." Jane rolled her eyes once her back was safely turned, then hurried over to the identified weapons crate, keenly aware of all eyes in the hangar boring into her back.

"Holy..." Jane broke off as she lifted one of the axes out, taking in the curved handle and the huge striking surface. She examined the weapon's keen edge, and tested how light it was in her hand. " _Damn_."

"Told you you'd love it." Bradford beckoned, and Jane dutifully claimed a pair of axes and the harness to hold them. She took a few experimental steps, getting used to the different way the weight on her back was balanced out.

"Ready," she finally muttered, hoping the axes didn't get her killed.

"Good." Bradford took a breath, and the Irishwoman saw his posture change as he fell back on that Old World military style. "People, we're on search and rescue today. We're looking for one of the finest minds to ever serve XCOM." Nostalgia flashed in his eyes, and Jane wondered how close he had been with this person. "I don't know what all we're going to find down there, but I know she's out there, and I know XCOM never leaves a man behind."

"Yes, sir!" That was Rogers, and Weber echoed him a moment later. Jane and David traded a glance, but then Aileen saluted.

"Sir," Jane agreed, before she and the Grenadier brought their own hands up.

Bradford nodded. "Let's go."

* * *

" _We're moving in_ ," Firebrand reported. Gallant watched the little holographic icon of the XCOM dropship in motion, soaring past rocks and over shattered rainforests, en route to the center of the emitting transmission. He waited with white knuckles, cursing his decision to allow Bradford to go in his place, hating himself for his crippled condition, and swearing that someday he would personally make amends for his cravenness today.

" _Coming up on a bluff of some kind_ ," Firebrand chimed in a moment later. " _Looks like this installation is dug into the side of the cliff. I'm seeing what probably used to be a pretty well-concealed entrance._ "

"Deploy," Gallant ordered, narrowing his eyes. "Doctor?"

"I'm monitoring the target site," Tygan noted, from Bradford's usual position at Gallant's right. "Those energy signatures remain, as well as..." He hit a few buttons on his datapad. "Possible subterranean activity."

"Possible?" Gallant asked. Tygan nodded.

"I'm sorry, Commander. There's an awful lot of interference blanketing the area...and our sensors are having difficulty penetrating that rock face."

"Give me good news."

"We still have a steady read on Doctor Vahlen's transmission. It must be coming from a fixed transmitter, which implies this is some sort of active facility of hers." Tygan mused. "If the rocks are that capable of repelling even the _Avenger_ 's alien sensors, that would explain why Vahlen chose this location to take root."

"Yeah. She's smart like that." Gallant touched his comm. "Central?"

" _Yes, sir?_ " He didn't sound intimidated. Gallant admired that.

"Exercise extreme caution," he ordered. "Find Vahlen and get out. God alone knows what's going on down there."

* * *

"Yes, sir," Bradford repeated. Jane eyed him, rising to her feet while the Skyranger twisted.

" _Sixty seconds_ ," Firebrand advised. " _Put your knitting away, kids_."

"All right." Jane felt awkward, what with Central sitting right there, but she grabbed the overhead handhold and faced her team just the same, glancing from Aileen to David to the rookies in the back. "Stay together and watch each others' backs. Don't get separated, mind your corners, and if you see something moving that shouldn't, shoot it. Sort the rest out later."

"Sound advice." Bradford joined her, and a moment later, everyone else made their way to their feet. The drop bay doors hissed, and Jane inhaled as they slipped open, revealing dry countryside and a sheer rock face. The XO shifted his weight, checking his obscenely high-powered rifle with its many protruding mods. "I'll take point. Kelly, with me. Quinn, you're with Weber, and White with Rogers."

" _Ten seconds_." Firebrand paused, and Jane winced as she got a better look.

"That...doesn't look good," she muttered. "There's smoke coming from the cliffside."

" _Five seconds_." Another pause, as the Skyranger settled out and the lines dropped. " _Go!_ "

"Roger that, Firebrand!" Bradford hit the line first, and Jane scrambled to jump out after him. She caught rope, and her gloves absorbed friction as she slid from a hundred feet in the air, Aileen and Cameron behind her, and Weber and David after them.

 _Thump_. Her boots met gravel and dirt, and Jane scrambled forward to the first rock she saw, shotgun up. She scanned the area, tense and waiting as the rest of the team came down and settled into cover themselves.

"Boots on the ground," Weber finally confirmed. The German scoured the surround for a moment before lowering her rifle. "We're in."

"Is that a cave?" Jane wondered, taking in the massive opening before them.

"No shit it's a cave," David grunted. "Congratulations, Irish. Your eyes work."

"You know what, David?" Jane grunted irritably. "I meant it could be man-made."

"Maybe a bit of both," Bradford said. "Vahlen's the type who would find a defensible fortification and expand on it."

"Look at all those support columns. This place is _huge_." Jane rose, following Central down the first few rocky steps into the cavern. " _Huge_."

"Talk about _Mines of Moria_ , huh?" Bradford chuckled, but without much humor. "Kelly and I will push straight down the center. The rest of you fan out on the flanks and follow up."

"Don't die," Aileen encouraged, patting Jane on the shoulder. The Ranger watched her friend take Weber, and armed with Bolt Caster and rifle, the pair hurried off on the left. David and Cameron moved right, and that left Jane and Bradford together, working their way down the main steps toward a small bluff.

"There's lots of fire down here," Jane muttered after a moment, spotting smoldering embers and breathing in the reek of smoke.

"And skulls." Bradford's lips thinned as he pointed _that_ out, and Jane nodded. She shivered, examining a display of them, all pinned together and set with torches. "Someone's been decorating."

"Tasteful." Jane swallowed, reaching up to check her axe handle. "Here's hoping we don't just give him more art supplies."

* * *

Elena Dragunova waited.

Her breath came in silently, and she tensed and released the muscles in her legs and shoulders almost constantly. To the outward eye she was still, but she couldn't risk anything stiffening up. She watched a trio of Advent soldiers, pacing the outer walkway of the black prison facility with their heavy boots stomping on metal and concrete.

Liang and Julie weren't nearly as quiet, or as still. Elena hoped their twitching and stretching didn't give them away, even as she berated herself for not trying to educate them in Reaper stealth techniques on the journey here. It was far too late now, and nagging the Grenadier and the psi-op would only run the risk of her voice alerting the enemy, so she settled for checking her claymore and vektor again.

The soldiers moved on. Elena eyed the turret looming past them, but its attentions were focused elsewhere. She'd spent close to an hour now tracking its scan pattern, and she was reasonably confident of a four-minute window before the gun emplacement's AI turned to a dedicated sweep of her quadrant.

So she watched the soldiers, scanned the crates and barrels and stacked weapons that gave the prison yard more cover than she could ever use, and made her decision.

 _Go!_ Elena signaled, waving her minions on. Without any verbal command or hesitation, she rose and swept across the scraggly grass for the low wall at the perimeter, not even bothering to crouch. She heard Liang faintly on her trail, and Julie far more clearly, as her wound kept her flagging.

Elena slid down behind a rack of mag rifles, holding her breath as the turret turned. Its scan was cursory rather than detailed - for now - but still the Reaper hoped Liang and Richardson had found good cover in time. They lacked her training, lacked her adaptive camouflage, and at least in the psionic's case, lacked a body functioning at one hundred percent.

Elena spared a glance, and she spotted the former behind the stocky base of a lightpost, and the latter laying prone behind a set of elerium fuel drums. What would happen to Julie, her stealth op, and likely XCOM's entire war effort if the turret decided to ignite the drums was not something Elena particularly cared to contemplate, and she clenched her free fist, mindful not to squeeze the trigger in her other hand.

Her fears were groundless. The red light of the turret's sensor swept away, and Elena let out her long breath, thankful neither of her teammates would see her relief behind her Reaper's mask. The turret had sensors far more sophisticated than mere visual detection, but the combination of the elerium fumes and the XCOM team's signal-blocking clothing had defied any attempt at thermal scanning.

Elena waved, and her team swept forward again, this time through the rest of the yard and up to the long, lean building that threatened from hundreds of yards distant.

"Door," she ordered under her breath, as she crept into position on its left. Liang took up a spot across the entryway, and Julie pulled out her datapad. She worked for a moment, biting her lip and very clearly working hard to not steal glances over her exposed shoulder.

"You're covered," Liang assured her, just as quietly. Elena kept her attention focused on what was ahead, certain no soldiers would round the corner and surprise them unless they suddenly developed the ability to run at forty kilometers per hour dead silent for the rest of their patrol legs.

"Got it." Julie lowered her pad as the door light blinked green, and then Elena glanced inside while it hissed open.

"Clear," she muttered. "Probably someone in the cellblock. Julie, you're with me. Liang, cover the rear."

"Roger." The Grenadier hurried into a small side chamber, and after her companions had entered, she hit the door seal and hunkered down behind a support column. "Don't take too long."

The next room was full of screens and monitors, and a center console with a swiveling chair. Red lights glinted at the corners, and Elena supposed it was part of the Elders' design: red lights didn't interfere with low-light vision. In the event of a power outage or an escape from the darkened cellblocks, no response unit from inside would be much deterred by the shadow.

The security operator was busy. Elena supposed that was why he hadn't cared to investigate the door opening and shutting outside of routine: he was far too busy with a vigorous magazine the Elders probably wouldn't have approved of being read in one of their critical installations. Feet up on the security console, eyes very intent, he traced outlines with one finger, whistling cheerfully under his breath.

He did look up just in time to see Elena's vektor butt crack in between his eyes.

"Now what?" Julie asked, as Elena threw the senseless body to the floor, and stomped on his magazine on general principles. _Human_ publications like that served a purpose. But what anyone saw in _vipers_...

"Mox." The Russian swept over the computers, frowning as she moved from monitor to monitor. "The cells are empty."

"Say again?" Julie's eyes widened. "He's not here-"

"No. They're _all_ empty." Elena growled. "This place has been cleaned out, and recently."

"Why? Where'd they take them?"

"I don't know-" Elena broke off. "Wait! One cell occupied." With fingers that shook a little despite herself, Elena called up the cell's information listing. "That's...no name, but...capture date..."

"Well?" Julie asked, after the better part of a minute.

"That's him," Elena finally told her. She hit a few other buttons. "Give me your datapad."

"You don't have one?" The psi-op provided hers anyway.

"Oh, I'll copy this data to mine, too. But I'm far more likely to be killed in action than you are, and someone needs to get this data to..." She coughed. "To the Commander."

 _Best not call him "the cripple" while on mission, I think_.

"What is it?" Julie asked. Elena shook her head.

"I think I can find out where the prisoners were being shipped." She scowled at the screens. "Some kind of facility in the Ural Mountains. _Black site_..."

"What about Mox?"

Elena jerked her head to the corridor. "Cell Six-five-nine. There's a guard patrolling the walkway. Take him out and I'll follow when I've got the data."

"Right." Julie turned for the door. "Don't take too-"

The redhead jumped as a klaxon went off. Elena froze for a moment.

"The operator. Must have had a heartbeat monitor." She kicked him, and also herself for her sheer ungalled _stupidity_. If she'd still been working under Volk, he'd have had her on camp cleanup for a month.

"Now what?" Julie demanded, teeth clenched. Nervous yes, but she _was_ in fact a soldier, and Elena's opinion of the psi-op clicked up a little.

"That guard. _Kill it_." Elena redoubled her efforts. "We have two or three minutes until they figure out where the alert is coming from and mobilize a team. We'd better have Mox and be out of here by then, or..."

"Right!" And then Julie vanished into the dark. Elena's fingers flew over the holo-keyboard, and she watched the data transfer bar impatiently.

She checked her claymore and rifle again.

* * *

 _Crunch_.

"I'm trying very hard not to think about what it is I'm stepping on," Jane muttered. She studiously kept up the effort, kicking aside anything she reasonably could and trying to ignore the putrid _stench_ that overrode her nostrils.

"Probably for the best." Bradford left it there, the light from his rifle passing over scattered bones from various creatures Jane couldn't identify and also didn't want to. The XO's back was straight, and his teeth were set, but for it all he resembled to Jane more a coiled spring than anything else: at any moment he could snap, and it wouldn't be she who paid for it.

Hopefully.

Jane's breath rang in her ears, echoing around the open cavern. She felt her heart thumping, and listened to the faint crackling of flames.

 _What are the odds...I don't know...what are the odds this is just some kind of party?_ She tried not to cough, mindful of how silent Central was. _What if the bones are to scare away enemies, and the flames are...for interior lighting?_

 _Kelly_ , she imagined David saying. _Kelly, shut up_.

Still...maybe...

 _Thump_.

"Huh?" Jane frowned. "That wasn't a bone."

"Then what _was_ it?" Bradford asked.

"I don't know, sir. I'm still trying not to find out." She felt very stupid after saying it, and before the XO could ream her a new one or just deploy his irritated old-man glare, she hurriedly knelt, brushing dirt off the little bump she'd stepped on.

"Well?" Bradford demanded. Jane plucked the offending item from the dirt.

"Can't have been here long. Was just covered in a little bit of rock and rubble, so most of the ceiling must have caved in before it fell." She presented the device with both hands, still crouched. "It's a datapad, sir."

"I'm not _that_ old," he snapped, before plucking the device from her grip. Jane coughed, pushing herself up and reclaiming her shotgun.

 _Damn near time I named this thing_ , she thought, before having to growl and shift her weight. _Never thought I'd miss my stupid sword - these axes don't sit at all as comfortably!_

"Still has a charge." Bradford hit the power button, and Jane covered him for a moment as the XO hunted through the device's menus. The old man scowled.

"Password?" Jane asked. "Maybe Shen should-"

"No." Bradford hit another icon, and the device crackled with sudden sound.

" _This data_ must _be preserved!_ " a woman's voice cried from the speaker. Jane jumped.

"Stupid French-"

"She's _not_ French," Bradford snapped, before holding his ear a little closer. "Shut up, Kelly!"

" _Take this!_ " the not-Frenchwoman said. " _Take this, and find Bradford!_ "

"It's her," Bradford muttered. Jane blinked.

"I thought she was German."

" _Avenger_ , this is Bradford." Jane might have been a potted plant for all the attention he sent her way from that moment on. "We've found a data unit with a recording of Doctor Vahlen on it. She must have given it to an underling and sent him on his way."

" _Is there any sign of her messenger?_ " Doctor Tygan asked.

"...no," Jane mumbled, glancing around. "Maybe he went to the bathroom?"

" _Find her!_ " Commander Gallant ordered, his voice breaking through her weak attempt at levity. " _This doesn't look good, John. Find her_ now _, before..._ "

"Trust me, sir. We're on it." Bradford hesitated. "Doctor-"

" _I had hoped to meet my predecessor under less...extreme circumstances_." Tygan took a breath. " _I am tracing her broadcast, Central, and I believe it is coming from a position directly ahead. I'm sending you coordinates now._ "

"Good man-" Bradford broke off. "Kelly! Movement right!"

"Sir!" Jane snapped her gun up. She aimed at the faint outline of a man-made door seal, large enough she wondered if it was supposed to be a hangar. "David, Cameron-"

" _We're moving in_ -"

A shape appeared, right and up, from a crevice in the cavern wall. Jane pulled the trigger without thinking, and buckshot sprayed the rock and dirt. Bradford ducked to the side, and Jane dove behind a boulder, waiting as something tumbled down the wallside, rolling and sliding until it appeared between Ranger and XO.

"...vipers," Bradford finally muttered, taking in the lithe corpse. Jane swallowed, blood running cold as she heard - and _felt_ \- more movement in the walls. "It _had_ to be vipers."

* * *

 _Hiss..._

The guard spun. Red light tinted dark armor, and to his credit, the speed with which he raised his mag-rifle was impressive. Most likely that targeting module was a night vision or thermal scope, and he bent his knees, sweeping the far end of the corridor without an ounce of give or quit to him, hunting for the source of the sweeping hiss of winter breath that had unnerved him so.

Which was unfortunate, because it had never been real in the first place.

 _Wham!_ The butt of Julie Richardson's rifle hit the back of the unfortunate Adventer's head, and he collapsed on all fours, rifle clattering away. He reached for his sidearm, but the natural redhead drove her knee down between his shoulder blades, slamming him face-first into the metal latticework of the walkway.

"Sorry," she muttered, without being sorry. The soldier finally wrapped his fingers around the handle of his pistol, but Julie had her rifle, and another two blows to the back of his head cracked his skull in at least two places. He lay very still, and Julie spent a moment weighing whether to shoot him just to be sure.

"No point," she finally told herself, before reaching to his belt and swiping his key card. "Besides, gunfire might alert more guards."

The psi-op scrambled to her feet, releasing her rifle to hang from its shoulder strap. She reached for her amp, though she didn't fully draw it, merely keeping her options close to hand as she hurried down the walkway, scowling as the _klaxon_ continued to ring out.

"Maybe it wouldn't have mattered," she mused, as she turned a corner, counting cell numbers. "No one would possibly hear a shot over _that_. And who would ignore the _alarm_ , but come running for a _shot_?"

No point turning back. Julie scurried past empty cells, counting off under her breath. _Six-four-eight_... _six-five-six_...

"Six-five-nine!" Julie stopped outside the door, and plucked Mister Guard's key card from her pocket. She inserted it into the lock, and it chimed softly, in a way that still managed to send a shiver up Julie's spine. She paused to glance around at black with red lighting, and all the _creepy_ elder symbols on the walls.

"I'd rather die than wind up in one of these," she mumbled, and was more than half sure she meant it.

Pledge made, Julie hit the red button to open the door, and waited while hydraulics hissed. She could barely make out anything in the faint scarlet light, but she thought she could see some kind of metal shelf that passed for a bed.

"Mox?" she demanded. "Pratal Mox?"

Movement from the shelf. Julie hesitated to enter, warily eyeing the door and wondering if it would just snap shut behind her.

"You...do not look like Advent." That was a very distinct voice. It was almost mechanical, and Julie's hopes soared.

"I'm not. Mox, I'm Julie Richardson, and Commander Gallant sent me."

"Gallant?" Mox shifted, and Julie realized he was trying to sit up. "Alone?"

"No. I'm here with Da-Xia Liang and Elena Dragunova." Julie entered, forgetting the door and hurrying to the Skirmisher's side. He was very weak, and she worriedly took his arm. "Here, sir. Lean on me."

"There's no need to call me _sir_ ," he objected. The slurred way he was talking...he had to be drugged. Mind-altering? Painkillers? Julie wondered exactly what the interrogators - much less, perhaps, the _Assassin_ \- had done to him.

"Of course not. Sir." Julie could hardly see Mox in the dark, but she tried her best not to focus on his ritual scarring, and the odd implant lines ringing his chin. He couldn't pass for human, and just the glimpses she got of him made her skin crawl - to say nothing of his _smell_. It wasn't rank, it wasn't musty - well, no more than a human's would be, in this cell - but it was just that little bit alien, just inhuman enough that Julie's stomach shivered.

 _Stop it_ , she tried to tell her body's automatic reactions. _He's a friend. Different doesn't mean bad!_

"On your feet, sir." Julie pulled him up, and he leaned heavily on her arm. Quickly, she threaded his over her shoulders. "Come on. Liang and Outrider will cover our withdrawal. Let's just walk, you and I."

"My legs are numb," Mox mumbled, though more with the air of a soldier supplying tactical information than someone complaining. "I will find it hard to move quickly."

"That's why you have me." Julie supported him out of the cell, and she turned right in a heartbeat. "Come on. Let's get you home. Sir."

* * *

 **Author's Note 17: Reapers**

My opinion of Reapers has gone up since the last time I discussed the new classes in WOTC. Skirmishers remain my favorite, but I've finally figured out the tactical utility of the claymore, and I have to admit it's quite a bit heftier than I originally thought. Not _so_ useless, when it means the Reaper can participate in an ambush without revealing herself, _especially_ if you're also in situation where your sharpshooter would have to move to participate, and isn't heavily pistol-skilled. Reaper throws claymore, sharpshooter pistols it, ka-boom! Literally.

That said, Reapers remain hamstrung by the same core problems I remember from my first playthrough. Much like Scout-specced Rangers, once they leave stealth their core utility drops dramatically, and that's only increased by the fact that they're virtually undetectable while _in_ stealth. They can reenter Shadow much easier and they can use certain abilities and attacks while in it without a certainty of breaking concealment, but that doesn't change that they're far more useful in Shadow than fighting in 75% of circumstances, and in most of the remainder you'll hesitate to have them take any actions because you'll want them in stealth for the NEXT problem...and their guns don't do much damage, which is something I hope to find a mod to fix.

And the Shadow UI is _annoying_. So much green, so much on screen...it's awful.

This has nothing to do with anything, but I want to brag: I recently got Flawless on Lost and Abandoned. The main mistake people make is in holing up on the causeway when the Assassin is invulnerable to reaction fire - you have to go _looking_ for her, and you can tear her to shreds with a grenade, some guesswork, and a couple flank shots. Depending, of course, on her strengths and weaknesses.

Until next time, _Vigilo Confido_.


	18. Subject Gamma

_Please remember to favorite and follow!_

* * *

 _"Those who play with the devil's toys will be brought by degrees to wield his sword."_

 _~Buckminster Fuller_

* * *

 **Chapter Eighteen: Subject Gamma**

"Well, let's focus on the bright side," Jane suggested, as at least a dozen vipers burst from wall and ceiling, slithering over solid rock on their way to the ground, shrieking their hate and dripping spittle and venom with every twitch. "They aren't quite as big as most vipers."

" _That's_ what you notice?" Bradford demanded. Jane winced.

" _Corporal Kelly is correct_ ," Tygan chimed in. " _The specimen lying before you is quite a bit smaller than most examples of this species. It also doesn't seem to be armed with a plasma-based weapon._ "

"No," Jane agreed. She studied the gun lying on the dirt. "Looks like the Bolt Caster's little cousin." She examined the body again. A snake that stood like a man, with spindly arms and a frill the size of Galway... "She's blue, too. Why's she blue? Vipers are orange-tan-"

"Can we discuss alien biology _after_ we get through this?" Bradford demanded, and then his rifle barked and spat hot tracers.

"Oh!" Jane set her teeth, and she snapped her shotgun up. "Right!"

" _Coming up on the left side!_ " David warned through her earpiece. Jane took aim at the swarm rushing toward her and the XO, and in a side part of her mind she noted how many scattered and collapsed under his withering fire. " _Keep them busy for a few minutes and we'll engage from the flank!_ "

"Copy, David!" Jane squeezed the trigger, and with a _boom_ she hurled buckshot into the throng. Neonate vipers shrieked and tumbled, spraying yellow blood, and Jane worked the pump again.

In their mad rush, she saw echoes of the Lost, and that sent cold chills up her spine.

"Get down!" Bradford ducked, and so did Jane as a half-dozen of the creatures aimed crossbows their way. Bolts shot through the air, pulverizing stalagmites and ripping holes in boulders, and Jane yelped when one passed so close to her ponytail that it flicked around in the wind.

"That's a _huge_ projectile," she gasped, slamming new rounds into the chamber. "That could stop the SPARK-"

"Can it, Kelly!" Bradford popped up on one knee, put an eye to the targeting module on his rifle, and spat out another tongue of lead. Neonates slithered into cover, but that wasn't enough to save all of them. Yellow sprayed over rock and dirt, and Jane saw two of them collapse, thrashing and hissing out shrieks of agony with bulletholes stitching their torsos.

There were more. There had been fifteen or sixteen at the start, but there were at least another half-dozen coming up from tunnels in the ground, hunting for the source of the noise. Even counting the losses Jane and Bradford had inflicted, her rapid math said there couldn't be fewer than a dozen and change.

Bolts slammed into her rock. It shook, but Jane popped up anyway, heart pounding. Her shotgun roared, bucking like a cannon in her hands, and she distinctly saw two of the creatures go down, flinging their mini-Bolt Casters left and right. Their companions hung low, slithering at ten or twelve miles per hour across the low floor, faster than Jane could adjust-

 _Bang-bang-bang!_

"On the left!" Cameron Rogers called, as his rifle fire tore into the neonates. David burst up at the rookie's flank a moment later, and Jane grinned as his machinegun spat tracers and death, spewing corpses and blood everywhere.

Then her grin faded as four of them reached her, and they sprang over her rock without a care.

"Shit!" Jane's next exclamation, considerably saltier, was drowned out by the _boom_ of her shotgun, but this time her shot went wide. Viper teeth snapped, and she threw herself back hastily, flailing with fist and shotgun butt. She put out one long fang with a glancing blow from her weapon's stock, and something about how it clattered to the rock floor trailing yellow ooze gave her a moment's flash of triumph.

But only a moment's, because that was when one of those slithery bodies wrapped around her with the force of a vise. Muscles contracted, and Jane's arms abruptly snapped into her sides.

"Get off-" but she couldn't finish the demand, not with her breath shoved out of her, and the additional weight on her shoulders was too much for her legs. She collapsed to her knees in the dirt, squirming in the monster's grip to absolutely no avail.

Jane Kelly screamed as its mouth opened, and its saliva-dripping teeth shot toward her face.

* * *

" _Kelly's bound_ -"

" _They're concentrating on her and Central_ -"

Edward Gallant's eyes bored into the holodisplay, ignoring Sophie Weber and Cameron Rogers and their panicked chatter. He watched the mixed icons of Sergeant Kelly and the viper, wrestling and wriggling across the floor, and his grip tightened on his cane. Tightened, and tightened...

"Sir." Someone touched his shoulder.

"What?" Gallant whirled, and it took every ounce of his self-control not to twist his cane's handle and lash out. He quivered, hissing breaths in and out.

"Sir..." Lily Shen wasn't unaffected by his anger, but she was unyielding in the face of it. She held out both hands, and Gallant's eyes flicked down to the pills and cup of water.

"Not now, Chief." The Commander turned back to the rioting display of his latest Stalingrad, grinding his teeth. "Leave me alone."

"Sir." Lily's next touch was a bit firmer than a tap. "I'm not taking no for an answer."

"It's the answer you're damn well getting, _Chief_ ," Gallant snapped, pretending the bridge crew weren't subtly watching the display. "I'm fine. Get out of my face."

"Would Doctor Vahlen get out of your face about this?"

Gallant's next breath wasn't just hissing, it was _seething_. If he were a dragon, sparks would have flown over the bridge, with a fair bit of flame to their core. He bored his gaze into Shen, harsh and furious at once, clutching his cane with white knuckles. Red rage burned him from the inside.

But she was right, and wordlessly Gallant swept all his pills up in one hand, tossed them into his mouth at once, and then reached for the water.

"Commander." That was Tygan, and he was either the most ignorant ditz in the world or very good at pretending he hadn't seen the clash of wills his CO had just lost in dramatic fashion. Gallant's glare, moderately less wrathful, turned, and while combat chatter continued to erupt from the holodisplay, his chief science officer gestured to his terminal. "I've run decryption on Doctor Vahlen's signal, and am working to open up her log notes. I can initiate playback of the clear transmission-"

"Do it." Gallant threw the cup away the instant he no longer needed it, heedless of how Sylvie Richard scurried to clean up the spill and mess. "Let's hear it."

"As you command." Tygan hit the play button.

" _An extreme biological hazard is present throughout this area_ ," said that voice, that _musical_ accented voice Gallant had missed _so_ much. " _Genetically enhanced alien species are of particular concern to the civilian populace. Do not approach under_ any _circumstances - all attempts should be made to avoid contact with these life forms._ "

Silence. For a moment there was silence, even with the battle chatter.

"My God," Gallant finally muttered, clenching his teeth. "This isn't a signal. It's a _warning_."

* * *

In his time on Earth, John Bradford had killed just about anything that walked or crawled. He'd battled sectoids with his trusty old Colt .45 during the fall of XCOM, and he'd run with the Indonesian Resistance fighting thin men and vipers during the assault on the _Avenger_. His trusty rifle had served him virtually since the fall of humanity, and despite his age, Bradford was as capable as soldiers came. He _still_ had the fastest right hook on the ship, and no one wanted to get in a ring with him to challenge the record any more.

He still had the Colt, too, and when his Multipurpose Combat Rifle clicked empty, as neonate vipers rolled over the rocks with dripping fangs, Bradford calmly drew it from his thigh holster.

 _Bang!_ The pistol was as reliable as it had been when his grandfather had carried it across the Pacific, and two shots was probably more than was strictly necessary to put down the first of his two attackers. Five more crowded around Jane Kelly, Bradford noticed in a heartbeat, and he would have to execute every single one with one bullet apiece at this rate. He wouldn't have time to reload...and no one was _that_ good of a shot.

The second of the neonates took two in the chest as well. It got further than its friend, though, and those teeth snapped down on Bradford's hand. Fortunately, he pulled it out of the creature's mouth in time to avoid amputation or mangling, but his pistol flew. This wound up being a pyrrhic victory, because when the neonate collapsed on its arms, impact jolted the trigger and its head fairly exploded. Bradford barely flinched, even as the remaining four neonates turned to him - and even as the fifth one continued strangling Kelly, jaws snapping at her face while she screamed.

Bradford's hand flew up over his shoulder.

The first neonate managed to snap its crossbow up. It got a single good shot lined up, only for Bradford's first wild swing with three feet of Damascus steel to whack the weapon from its hands. The creature screeched, clearly hoping teeth could make a difference, but Bradford was an aficionado of close-range combat, and his backswing lopped the neonate's head off in a flash and a spray of yellow.

Then on came the three, swinging with their weapon butts. Bradford parried, and in the flashing and ringing of metal, his world was abruptly a very simple place.

 _Stab!_ The first opening he saw wound up with his sword driven clear through the first of his foes, and it screamed as he laid its belly open. It hit the trigger as it went down, and the wild Bolt Caster shot ripped off into the ceiling, sending rubble falling like heavy raindrops. Bradford ducked a bite, catching the offending throat left-handed, and recovered his blade all at once, driving the hilt into his enemy's eye. His next strike was an overhead slice that nearly bisected its skull.

Which left one neonate, hesitating as it saw the mess that had been its friends. That hesitation cost the creature, and by the time it made up its mind to attack anyway, Bradford's feet had moved from ground to a large boulder, and he hurled himself at it with elevation and gravity, throwing all his not-inconsiderable weight behind the tip of his sword as it rammed into the miniscule viper's head.

The creature was dead before it even hit the ground. Bradford ripped his sword free in passing, racing over scattered rocks and dust, and he brought it up as he loomed over Jane Kelly and the creature tormenting her.

He wasn't sure whether it was the viper or the Ranger who screamed louder when the sword fell.

* * *

"Got it!" Elena pulled Julie's datapad from the computer desk, cloning the data to hers in a matter of seconds. That done, she took both and hurried from the clerk's office back to the doorway. "Liang?"

"Took you long enough." The Grenadier scowled, or at least Elena suspected she was scowling under her ninja wrap. "I hear transports revving out there, and there's a fuckload of shouting-"

"Well, Richardson should be on her way out with Mox." Elena flattened herself at the edge of the door, risking a glance out the neighboring window. "I don't think they've figured out what door we're taking just yet."

"That's a relief." Liang didn't sound like she meant it, and Elena waited as she took a moment's reprieve from guard duty to slide what was definitely not a fragmentation warhead into her grenade launcher. "Whose fault is the alarm, anyway? Thought this was a quiet op, damn it."

"Not important." Elena left it at that. "When they deploy, they'll start with a perimeter sweep coming down the left side. From there." She waved to the barrels of fuel her team had used for cover, and the nosy turret that didn't seem to have realized what the alarm meant.

"You mean like those guys?" Liang asked, when Elena paused to note the figures scurrying past their automated gun position. The Reaper flattened herself.

"...yes. Like those guys." She took aim with her vektor. "Looks like two infantrymen and..."

"And what?" Liang flanked the window, and her chaingun she held ready. "Stun lancer?"

"...priest," Elena finally muttered, examining the all-white armor. "Where the hell is Julie?"

"You rang?"

"Oh, good." Elena spared the redhead a glance, and then her eyes flicked to her passenger. "Mox-"

"Elena." The Skirmisher clutched his chest, and she winced. He didn't look well at all. "I am in your debt for rescuing me."

"It's me who's in your debt," Elena demurred. "You covered my escape from the Lost-"

"We have a situation here, damn it," Liang snapped. She took aim. "I have a shot on the detail."

"We engage, they find us," Julie warned.

"Extraction's already compromised," Liang argued. "They're coming right this way."

"You're right." Elena took aim as well. "I've got a shot on the priest. Julie, get out and get Mox to the treeline as fast as you can."

"But-"

"Don't turn back!" Elena ordered. "On my mark, you run for it and we'll cover you." She breathed slowly. "Three."

"Outrider-"

" _Two_ ," Elena continued, deliberately not looking back.

"Come," Mox encouraged. "We will have our day, Julie Richardson. There will be more of them shortly."

"That's comforting." Julie took up position by the door, though Elena heard a heavy sigh as she did. "Ready."

"Good." Elena resisted an odd impulse to clear her throat as she subtly twitched her scope. "Mark."

 _Crack! Ratta-tatta-tatta!_

The single shot took the priest right in the center of the so-called _sniper's triangle_ : left shoulder, right shoulder, and forehead. The thing jerked convulsively, and as it staggered, Liang's machinegun-fire ripped up the ground around it. Elena worked the bolt as quickly as she could, and she lined up her next shot even as one of the priest's companions collapsed.

Worryingly, she noted the priest had only _jerked_ , and remained on her feet.

"Come on!" That was Julie, and Elena shifted around the door as the psi-op took her charge and they burst free from the prison. They shot for the fence, and Elena held her breath as the turret turned.

"Die!" Liang screamed, bringing heavy gunfire to bear. Red mag-shots blew holes in the walls around both women, but Elena added her shots to the mix, aiming for the turret's optical sensors. Whether it was her accurate fire or Liang's spray-and-pray, someone managed something, and the fortified emplacement's barrage snapped off heavenward without any guidance.

" _Donut!_ " shrieked the surviving soldier, taking careful aim at Liang. " _Bit of old vinegars!_ "

" _Call a taxi!_ " replied the priest, and Elena shot her again out of annoyance.

But then the mag-fire wasn't all that was incoming. The Reaper's eyes widened when the priest swept an amp from her back, and abruptly-

"Outrider!" Liang cried, as everything went violet.

* * *

Jane Kelly crashed in the dirt, coughing and sucking in grateful gulps of air. She beat on her chest, rolling on her side to get away from the reeking stench of dissected viper.

"Hot...holy _shit_..."

"You all right, Sergeant?"

"Am I..." She looked up at the man looming over her, then around in unabashed wonder. "Did you-"

"On your feet, kid." John Bradford leaned down and took her arm, and Jane had no egotistical complaints about leaning on him for a minute. She gawked at the...at the _strewn trail_ of bodies...

"Did you kill... _all_...of them?" she finally whispered. "There must have been seven of them!"

"I counted six, Miss Kelly." Bradford flicked his weapon, then wiped it on one of the corpses. "I told you a sword can make all the difference in battle."

"Yeah, you did, but..." Jane coughed. "Thank you, sir. I owe you a round."

"More of even, isn't it?" Bradford countered. Was he _red_? "I owe you for Paris."

"Right." Jane leaned down to claim her fallen shotgun. "So why _can't_ I name it _Glamdring_?"

"Taken." Bradford paused to eject his murder rifle's clip and insert a new one. Jane frowned.

"I'm the only Ranger on the _Avenger_."

"Are you?" Bradford gave her a look, and Jane blinked.

"...no. No, you _did not_ -"

"Sir!" That was David, appearing ahead with Cameron Rogers at his side. They both paused, taking in the pair of Rangers. "Looks like the last of them."

"Good." Bradford waved. "Come on. Door's ahead, and that's where we'll find answers."

" _Already at the entrance_ ," Aileen reported, while Jane hurried to join the boys. Bradford led from the front, which was undoubtedly proper for the number-two man in the entire organization. Then again, after that display, Jane wasn't going to tell the old bastard where he could and couldn't go.

"Yeah, thanks for the help," Cameron growled, racking the bolt on his rifle. Jane shoved him in passing.

"Orders are orders," she snapped. "We did well enough."

" _Central_." That was Doctor Tygan, and Jane claimed the point position as Bradford seamlessly retreated into the fold of his unit to take the call. The Irishwoman waited, ill at ease even as they approached the great steel blast door with Aileen and Sophie at its flanks, ever vigilant. " _I have managed to decrypt some of Vahlen's files. I can begin streaming data at any time_."

"Do it," Bradford ordered. "We're entering her facility now."

" _Very well_ ," Doctor Tygan agreed. Jane swallowed, coming to a halt by the door.

"Breach in five," Bradford ordered. "White, Kelly."

"Roger." David appeared by her side, and Jane took immense comfort in his bulky presence. They waited as Bradford checked the rest of the team's readiness.

Someone coughed. Jane nearly jumped, until she realized the speaker was inside her ear.

" _System dictation_ ," said the accented voice Jane could only presume belonged to the mythical Doctor Vahlen. " _Initial entry. It has taken me longer than I care to admit, but the secondary power systems are finally operational. At least, enough so that I can finally move to more edifying work._ "

" _Not sure I like the sound of that_ ," muttered Gallant's raspy voice. Jane waited as Bradford raised his hand to count down, finger by finger.

" _While attempting to salvage materials from what appeared to be a totally inert storage system_ ," Vahlen lectured, reminding Jane of the mother she'd hated so much, " _I made an astonishing discovery. A single cryostasis unit - intact, operational...and occupied. This..._ " Jane could hear the giddiness in her tone. " _This changes_ everything."

" _Damn it, Vahlen_." It was telling, in Jane's opinion, that Gallant didn't even need further clarification to lay _that_ down. " _Just what the hell happened to her? Was she living out there?_ "

"Let's find out," Bradford decided. He nodded to the door. "Breach!"

* * *

"What the hell-"

Julie bit off the cry, ducking behind a tall sentry post as purple light seared over Dragunova. The Reaper twitched, but her vektor fell and she followed it in moments, dropping to her hands and knees as whirling violet power wrapped around her limbs. In an instant she was wrapped up in a dome, and Julie swallowed when she saw the Russian wasn't moving.

"She...she put her in some kind of stasis..." Julie glanced to Liang, still firing at the soldier laying down suppressive fire. The wounded priest stumbled for cover, amp still out and ready.

"I have to help," Julie decided, even though her heart pounded. She could hear more shouting, knew the next team could only be a minute away, but...

"Help how?" Mox demanded. He pulled, and she fell to one knee in cover in the instant before red mag-projectiles superheated the air around her face. "That priest is behind a wall from us-"

"That's not a problem." Julie unslung her rifle and handed it to the Skirmisher before she really had time to decide whether she was being stupid. "Cover me."

Gold light filled the air now. It wrapped from the priest's amp over to the soldier and his rifle, and Liang screamed, ducking low as his shots homed in. His eyes glowed, and something about him seemed stronger and more vicious.

 _Some kind of mind-merge! I heard rumors about the original sectoids doing something like this, but..._

Julie drew her amp, even as Mox opened up with her rifle. That soldier was good, and he dropped in a flash. Liang rose cautiously, but the priest was well-protected from her.

But not from Julie, as she drew on her power and the thrumming energy of the amp.

"You...will... _burn!_ " she cried, as the energy built on her palm. She turned it outward, and-

 _Bang!_

Julie flew four feet backward, hitting the prison wall with a _crash_ she barely felt. She slid onto her rear, vision hazy, chest burning with the most unimaginable ache that somehow didn't hurt much at all. It was like when she'd been shot in Sweden, but a lot more personal.

"Well... _fuck_ ," she growled, as the Advent soldier took aim for his second shot.

But she still had her power in palm, and with the last of her strength Julie almost physically hurled it - at the priest.

She heard two Advent voices screaming in accord as the world went dark.

* * *

"Julie!" Elena burst from her confinement in a blast of energy, unsure how she'd broken the prison holding her down. It probably wasn't her, honestly speaking: the priest's head was still halfway through the implosion process, but there was no doubting she was dead already. The psionic sledges Julie had taken to her skull hadn't just killed the white-clad devil, but feedback from her mind-merge had broken the Advent soldier's brain in half. Both collapsed, though Liang couldn't resist shooting the soldier anyway.

"Damn it!" Elena tore out the door, dropping to her knees over the bleeding psionic's limp form. "No! No, you don't get to die like this!" She reached into her coat, searching and searching...

"What are we going to do?" Liang demanded, running up and glancing over her shoulder. "There's no way the next group is more than thirty seconds out-"

"There we go." Elena pulled out a medkit, and she held her breath as she sprayed nanobots over Julie's red gash. She injected her with painkillers and stims too.

"I do not think I can walk unaided," Mox interjected. Elena spared him a glace.

"Well, you won't have to." She drew her claymore, and with only a glance she threw it. The little device fastened to an unobtrusive green barrel, and then Elena reached down for Julie, sweeping her up and over her shoulder as gently as she could.

"Here." Liang grabbed the redhead's amp, and Elena spared a second for the Grenadier to put it back in place on her charge's back. "She has a pulse, but it's weak."

"She's not going to die. Not on my watch." Elena knelt to reclaim her vektor, then she hurried for the camp perimeter. "Come! Raj and Mordecai are waiting."

"Easy on, there." Liang leaned down, and Mox threw his arm over her shoulders. The two rose, and Elena heard them behind her-

" _Mor balaten!_ "

She turned. There were at least a half-dozen of them, split between troopers and purifiers. An officer led them, red cape flying out behind him as he sprinted. They shouted more in their language, and Liang and Elena both ground to a halt.

"What do we do?" Liang asked. Elena narrowed her eyes.

 _Just a little closer..._

"Run," she ordered. When the Grenadier hesitated, Elena's eye twitched.

" _Run!_ " she repeated, before lifting her vektor one-handed.

She had time for one shot. More Advent poured from around the corner, and there was at least one priest and a stun lancer in that mess. It wouldn't be long before that army unit responded - in fact, Elena suspected she could hear the whine of its rapid-reaction units coming in on transports - but even the dozen or so enemies cornering her team should be enough to finish them. And Elena only had time for one shot.

 _Fortunately_ , she thought, lining up her scope on the claymore fixed to its unobtrusive perch, _I only need the one_.

 _Bang!_

It detonated, and that blast was enough to take out the leading three members of the Advent team. Their officer staggered, wounded but somehow alive, but flying shrapnel eviscerated his two closest follows. Elena's heart soared when one of them turned out to be a purifier, and his flame tank cooked off in dramatic fashion, spewing incendiary fuel over the prison yard. That was perfect, even if there were still eight or nine Adventers barreling down on her.

It was fine, because the barrel she'd attached her claymore to was one of the elerium drums.

"God damn!" Liang cried, as a green blast shook the ground. A mushroom cloud of emerald shot up into the sky, while ash and fragments of metal flew. Elena almost lost her footing, forced into using her vektor for stability as she started for the edge of the yard, Julie still slung in place. The acrid tang of burning fuel ripped into her nose, and she heard agonized screaming from behind her.

"That's all we've got!" Elena cried, as she made it to the far fence. Liang was ahead of her, and when she paused, Mox laid down a quick burst with Julie's rifle. Elena almost broke a grin when she heard another purifier pack cook off to show for it. The _screaming_...

"Into the trees!" she ordered instead, boosting herself over the fence. "We'd better get to Raj and Mordecai and be long gone before they regroup, or we're in deep trouble."

 _And_ , she reflected, contemplating the weight on her shoulder, _if Julie doesn't make it, "deep trouble" is a gentle description of what I'll be in with Gallant and Volk._

She was _positive_ she heard the whine of transport engines.

* * *

"Breach!"

Jane burst into Vahlen's lair first, which she wasn't exactly super excited about, but it was in fact her job. She snapped her shotgun to the first sign of motion as the door blew open, and then instant Jane saw the outline of a muton-

 _Boom!_

"Steady!" Sophie Weber called, catching Jane's arm as she worked the pump and took aim again. "They're holograms, Kelly!"

"What?" Jane paused, and after a moment's looking, she supposed she had to admit the German had a point. "Oh." She looked around the open chamber, with its three glass containment cells and the holographic displays set before each of them. "That's...that's the biggest muton I've ever seen."

"Looks like a berserker who's been juicing," Bradford agreed. "And the archon-"

" _Oh_ , I don't like archons," David muttered. "And that looks like one of them went to bed with Satan."

" _It appears to be the remnants of some sort of alien genetics facility_ ," Doctor Tygan chimed in.

"Yeah." Cameron examined one of the tanks. "They're busted open." He glanced around. "Damn near everything's broken but the holographic emitters. Someone wrecked this place."

"Damn it," Bradford growled. "What did Vahlen do?"

"Look at this one." Jane tilted her head at the third of the holographic displays. "She doesn't look so dangerous."

"She's just a viper," Sophie agreed. "What's she doing here?"

" _I am resuming the feed of Doctor Vahlen's notes,_ " said Tygan, sounding more than a little concerned." _Perhaps they can shed some light on this situation_."

" _Success!_ " That was the German's voice again, and Jane couldn't fathom how she could be so excited by alien anything. " _I have managed to remove the genetic blockers the aliens implanted into the subjects in order to repress their traits. Now they will flourish. While subjects Alpha and Beta show promise...I must admit, it is subject Gamma I find the most intriguing_."

"Gamma?" Jane frowned. "Which one's which?"

"Archon says Alpha," David chimed in.

"Berserker says..." Aileen sighed. "Illegible. Damaged."

" _While subjects Alpha and Beta both continue to exhibit...exaggerated versions of traditionally observed behavior, Gamma has grown to be something else entirely. There is an intelligence behind those eyes I have never witnessed in an unaltered specimen of its kind._ "

"Unaltered?" Jane paused to look around the lab, shivering. "Why's it so cold in here?"

"Probably some kind of cryostasis for the _subjects_ ," Aileen suggested.

"What was that?" David turned, looking up at the ceiling. "I heard something-"

"Quiet!" Bradford touched his earpiece. "I think Vahlen's going somewhere with this."

" _The extent to which the Elders tamper with the DNA of their subordinate races knows no bounds_ ," the Doctor mused, while Jane returned to contemplating the huge, angry viper in hologram form. " _It occurs to me that this is the first male of the species I have ever seen. Is this a form of population control? Is this the fate of my own species_?"

"Yeah, not if we can help it," Jane muttered.

"Shut up," Bradford snapped. Jane subsided with a growl, rubbing her arms for warmth.

"David?" Cameron took a half-step out, raising his rifle. "I think I heard it too. Like...slithering, yeah?"

"There's snakes everywhere in here." Sophie waved. "It's nothing."

" _Commander...I have made a terrible mistake_."

"Oh, lovely," Jane began, breath misting. "Those are the best words to hear-"

" _Shut up_ ," Bradford repeated, giving her a furious glare. Jane wilted.

" _Sometimes I wish you were here to guide me, or Bradford or Shen. Without your counsel, I fear I have ranged too far afield_." Vahlen inhaled deeply. " _Subject Gamma has escaped. A fissure opened a minute crack in its containment unit, and that was all the creature required. It shattered the metal, cracking it as if it were glass, or a sheet of thin ice_."

"Ice?" Jane frowned, teeth chattering. "Wait a minute." Her ears perked up. "Boys..."

"Run a scan on the caverns," Bradford ordered Tygan. "Are you picking up life signs?"

" _Scanning_ ," the science officer assured him. " _...it's very hard to make out details. Our sensors are being obscured by_ -"

 _Roar!_

Jane spun. David spun too, and Cameron with them. Sophie, Bradford, and Aileen were all slower on the draw, but only by an instant.

"Oh, _God_..."

It was long, it was lean, and it was blue and white from head to tail, similar to the neonates but _much_ bigger, _much_ nastier. Saliva and venom dripped from its fangs, and its armor was stylized, with horns and flares and spikes on arms and head and shoulders alike. Its chestpiece glowed at the heart with some kind of miniature power cell, and Jane could feel the waft of frigid air on its breath as it shrieked defiance and challenge at the special forces team invading its home.

"... _I believe that would be Subject Gamma_ ," Tygan murmured.

* * *

 **Author's Note 18: What To Expect When You're Alien Hunting**

Can we talk about this DLC for a minute?

I love the mission. I love the gear. I love seeing Bradford as a soldier - and especially as a Ranger. I quite enjoy the suits you can make with the alien rulers' bodies.

I do _not_ enjoy the Rulers themselves.

Give them a crapton of hit points, sure. Give them extra actions, okay. Give them powerful abilities and make them change the game. Sure, make them bossfights.

But don't give them the ability to _react to every action your soldiers take with a full action_.

I wouldn't be terribly upset if the reaction was limited to, say, a move, or an overwatch, or some kind of defensive ability, like hunkering down. Or if they had to charge their special moves and they could use their reactions to do so. I would even accept that the Viper King could bind as its reaction move, if someone was dumb enough to run up and slash it. But the whole system as currently implemented is awful, even with the fixes in War of the Chosen. It's damn near unplayable prior to those fixes. I used to deliberately avoid this plot mission entirely, just so I wouldn't have to deal with the Rulers on my campaigns - and I've been tempted recently. I recently acquired a large selection of mods, but whereas I went out of my way to find an unconsciousness fix, I did _not_ look for one that removed the Rulers' reaction actions. I should have. I won't play Ironman mode with Rulers in the game - and I don't consider it shady tactics at all to use ctrl-alt-del to force-crash the game on an Ironman run as a result of getting REAMED by a Ruler. They're so OP it's not even funny, so cheating is practically required to beat them.

Stun lancers and Rulers. Everything else _can_ get me salty in the wrong situation, but those two are virtually _guaranteed_ to bring on the salt no matter what happens...and the Viper King is by far the easiest Ruler to deal with.

Until next time, _Vigilo Confido_.


	19. Dragons

_Please remember to favorite and follow!_

* * *

 _"We're our own dragons as well as our own heroes, and we have to rescue ourselves from ourselves."_

 _~Tom Robbins_

* * *

 **Chapter Nineteen: Dragons**

"Vahlen created a Viper King?" Gallant's eye twitched. "Oh, that's lovely. That's exactly what we needed."

"Let's not get hasty here," Shen urged. "It's not an Advent soldier, is it? Maybe it isn't hostile?"

Gallant gave her a look. Half the bridge staff did too, and the Chief went beet-red.

"Well...it's not _impossible_." She scowled. "I'm not stupid. Someone had to suggest it, that's all."

"It's an alien," Gallant snapped.

"So is Betos." That was a far more eloquent and reasonable reply than he'd expected. The Commander fumed at the unfairness of his life.

" _Easy_ , _people_." That was Bradford, and Gallant clenched his teeth, watching the XO's icon on the holodisplay. " _And easy there to you, too. We aren't here to cause trouble._ "

Gallant clutched the railing, waiting with bated breath. He ground his teeth together for the longest second of his life.

And then...

 _Bang!_

" _It's got a Bolt Caster_!" Aileen Quinn sounded personally affronted, and the icons in the lab scattered to the four winds. " _Shots fired_!"

"More contacts approaching from below!" Tygan warned. "Menace, I believe Gamma is calling them psionicly-"

" _Take it out!_ " Bradford ordered. Gallant took a breath.

"Right," he muttered, before straightening and touching his earpiece. "Engage the enemy, Central. Weapons free."

* * *

 _Boom!_

Jane Kelly swore when her first shot, fired from the hip, ripped past Gamma's head. It shrieked, and so did she when it lunged in her direction.

"Back!" She worked the pump, and this next shot hit. The shockwave of recoil went up her arms in a flash, and buckshot scattered on the King's armor. It didn't seem much impeded, and Jane gasped as it bore down on her, twisting around and dropping its arms to the floor-

 _Wham!_

That tail made for one hell of a club, and Jane flipped over twice in the air, crashing straight through the remains of that archon's hologram and containment unit. She yelped as glass cut open the backs of her hands and tried to punch through her thick boots.

"Jane!" Aileen appeared over her, even as most sounds were drowned out by vicious gunfire. Bradford opened up on full auto with Cameron at his side, and the King had to flee their barrage, slithering behind a tall support column.

"Watch the sides!" Sophie opened up in the direction of the main door, and her fire eviscerated a neonate. David's machinegun roared, but Jane could see neither him nor his target.

"Thanks." She took Aileen's hand, letting her friend pull her up. "Where's my shotgun?"

"Over there!" The medic racked the bolt on her crossbow from hell. "I'll cover you! Get it!"

Jane clapped her shoulder, then the brunette dove into the mess, heedless of bloody hands. She grabbed the hilt of her axe, though she prayed she wouldn't need it before she could-

"Son of a bitch!" David crashed through Jane's immediate area, a neonate wrapped around him with jaws snapping. The Aussie had one hand free, though, and he caught the beast by the throat, snarling words the Irishwoman had never heard and couldn't translate.

"Hold him!" She drew her axe in a flash, setting up her swing. A bolt zipped past her, and she wondered if it was Aileen covering her or a neonate who couldn't shoot for shit.

"Flank him!" Central ordered, laying down fire. Cameron said something in acknowledgment, before skittering for the King's open right side-

It shrieked. It shrieked and reared, braving Bradford's fire. Bullets skittered off its armor, and its jaws opened for one long instant-

"Jesus Christ!" Jane staggered as a cold blue wave rippled through the room. She still swung with her axe, of course, and the neonate strangling her pet machinegunner lost all interest in being a pain in the ass when his head and body flew two different ways. But the chill still tore into her with pins and needles and freaking _sword-points_ , punching through her armor and running up her spine like little men with icy feet. It was even colder than the Arctic...

"Help!" That was all Cameron managed to get off, as liquid sprayed from the creature's mouth. This wasn't venom, though, and the blue substance wrapped around the Canadian and...and...

"Liquid nitrogen!" Jane was no one's scientist, but even she thought that sounded fairly stupid after half a second's reflection. Maybe she needed to hit the library and talk to Tygan or his assistants, but no creature could _breathe_ liquid nitrogen...could they?

However it had done it, the Viper King's liquid breath had frozen Cameron and Bradford into solid statues, and Jane's mouth went dry as its evil eyes turned to her and David.

* * *

"Come on!" Elena scurried through the trees, only pausing to glance behind her and make sure Liang and Mox were still following. "We're less than three clicks from the rendezvous point."

"We will make it," Mox assured her, eyes hard with determination. "Julie will make it."

"I hope." Elena didn't like how still the psionic was. "She needs a medic. I'm not trained for this."

"Are your friends?" Liang asked, as the motly group resumed their wild limp for freedom.

"Raj at least. Perhaps Mordecai too." Elena splashed into a little brook, but this one was only to cross. "Maybe if we-"

"Contact!" Mox shouted, and Elena spun. She saw them too, and Mox unloaded with Julie's rifle in the same instant Elena snapped her vektor up one-handed.

 _Crack! Bang-bang!_

" _Butts!_ " screamed the first soldier, even as bullets ventilated him. His companion ducked behind a tree, and Elena knew there had to be more.

"Mox, can you walk?" She couldn't work the bolt one-handed, and could only duck for cover.

"I can do whatever is required." The Skirmisher tested his footing for a moment, and Liang slipped out from under his arm, slinging her chaingun out in a flash. The soldier popped up to put a shot into someone's back, and-

 _Ratta-tatta-tatta!_

"Take Julie." Elena proffered the deadweight, and Mox grimaced as he took her. He attempted an experimental step.

"I can carry her," he informed her. "But probably not far, not with any kind of speed."

"We'll worry about that part later." Elena worked the bolt now. "Liang!"

"Outrider?" She slipped behind her own tree as red mag-bolts seared in. "There's at least four of them back there now. They've got to be calling for reinforcements or an air strike-"

"Block the path and cover the rear!" Elena rose. "I'll take point with Mox in the center!"

"You want me to-"

"Do it!" Elena repeated, before glancing down her scope, selecting a target, and punching a hole through his skull in the span of a second.

"Yes, ma'am!" Liang grabbed for the other weapon on her back, and she shoved a single red charge down its open mouth. "Cover me!"

 _Crack! Crack!_ Elena let her vektor do the responding for her, though she worriedly counted _five_ Advent left, even with the one she'd killed.

"This had better work," she muttered, teeth clenched, "or this will be the shortest rescue in history."

 _Chump!_ It was a very strange noise, compared to gunfire. The propellant charge in Liang's grenade launcher sounded too... _bouncy_ , like the device worked on compressed air or springs. For all Elena knew, it _could_ \- she had hardly trained in its use or assembly.

And, of course, all that mattered at this moment was that it _did_ work, and whether it worked on compressed air, springs, or pixie dust, the grenade launcher hurled a red, beeping explosive charge down the path to the junction Advent had occupied.

Elena fondly imagined she heard someone scream " _eat pizza, cool!_ " in the instant between landing and detonation.

 _Fwoom!_

The explosive blast was enough to fling several lifeless corpses, But more powerful and more dangerous was the napalm inside the charge that served to ignite a raging firestorm on the path. Soldiers shrieked and burned, and the flames ate into old trees and dead wood, rapidly spreading and issuing smoke.

"Yes!" Liang cried, before grabbing for her gun. "That's for Yue!"

"Move!" Elena couldn't admire the lovely firestorm, not as aware as she was of Mox and Julie's injuries. Vektor in hand, she turned for the path ahead.

 _There might actually be a chance of getting out of here alive_ , she thought, as the fire cooked off someone's grenades behind her. _But let's not get cocky yet_.

* * *

"Shit!" Jane paired that cry with action, and she flung her axe almost without thinking. The Viper King had only a moment to roar threateningly before the blade cut into its shoulder, striking by luck outside of the armored chest, and it shrieked in something altogether different as yellow dripped for the ground.

"That's right!" David opened fire, and Jane covered her ears, diving for her fallen shotgun, now half-buried under the weight of the Australian's former attacker. She landed short, and desperately the Ranger crawled on hands and knees, ripping the gun free by its butt and rolling onto her back-

 _Hiss!_

 _Boom!_ Jane didn't like people looming over her and shouting at the best of times, and the neonate that had tested her patience found that out the hard way. It was probably dead before it realized she'd fired, since half of its body more or less disintegrated on impact.

"It's running!" David cried, before letting up his fire. He reached down for Jane, but she rather studiously clambered up without him.

"Running?" she demanded, gun raised. "Where to?"

"Back there, I think-" David grabbed her by the back of her shirt, and Jane choked as he yanked so hard her collar dug into her throat. She stumbled three paces backward...and a bolt hissed through the space her chest had occupied.

"Jackass!" Aileen cried, and then her Bolt Caster went off. A hole one foot in diameter appeared in the center of its chest, and the creature looked absolutely dumbfounded. It paused to glance down at itself through very cloudy eyes, staying upright with surprising strength and grace for an animal that no longer had a heart or lungs. It still looked shocked when it finally realized it was dead and dropped.

"Central!" Jane scurried to the frozen XO's side, swearing as she took him in. "He's sealed up tight. I don't know what to-"

"Break the ice, dammit," David ordered, as he reloaded. Aileen worked the Bolt Caster for a moment, and a new evil warhead popped out of its muzzle, ready for expulsion. Jane swallowed.

"Won't that shatter _him_ -"

"This ain't a cartoon." David scoffed. "Just 'cause he's _coated_ in it doesn't mean he's _made_ of it all of a sudden, stupid!"

"I'm not _stupid_ , you-"

"Watch it, lovebirds!" Aileen's drone shot forward, and Jane whirled as she heard electricity spit. She brought her shotgun up too, taking in close to half a dozen neonates forming up on the far end of the room.

"Are these all the King's _offspring_?" she wondered, before blowing two of them to Kingdom Come in three shots. Hissing, steaming cartridges ejected from the gun and landed around her feet. "What a man!"

"Where the hell _is_ he?" Aileen cried.

As if in answer, Jane heard the King shriek.

* * *

"It's moving _fast_ , sir," the tech cried. "Commander, it's moving around the right flank-"

"Right side!" Gallant cried into his earpiece. "The King's on the right-"

" _Busy!_ " Jane Kelly snapped, without proper deference to her Commander. Gallant seethed.

"Where the hell is Central?" he demanded, switching tacks. "John-"

" _Central's frozen up, sir!_ " Aileen Quinn replied. " _Some kind of ice breath!_ "

"Ice _breath_?" Gallant mumbled. "Sure. Ice breath." He inhaled sharply. "Break the ice. Get Central out of there."

" _Sir, we're kind of busy!_ " Jane broke off, and Gallant heard her gun go off at least twice. " _Later!_ "

Gallant's fists clenched. "Damn it, _sergeant_ , you get over there and free him! That's a direct order!"

" _Sir...screw you!_ " That was punctuated by something loud exploding.

A hush settled over the bridge, and Gallant's nostrils flared. Red tinted his vision, and he reached up for his earpiece-

"We've got the King on scanners!" Tygan cried, and Gallant froze halfway through beginning the dressing-down of Kelly's life. "Pressing in hard and fast!"

"On whom?" Gallant demanded. "Where is it?"

* * *

 _Bang! Bang-bang!_

"Tango down," Sophie Weber snapped, pausing to hit the magazine release and reach for a reload. In three seconds she had the new mag in place, despite her fumbling hands. She knew guns like she knew her blonde locks, but this was different than the Black Forest community she'd been raised in. Sophie had killed her first looter when she was ten, her first Advent at fifteen, and her first alien two years later...but this was more than that. _So_ much more.

Vipers pouring up from the floor and the walls, and that... _thing_ leading them...

 _Boom! Ratta-tatta-tatta! Bang!_ That was the rest of the squad, and Sophie hurried around the big archon container, gun at the ready. While her friends fought in the open space, she was working to flank around the neonates. If she could open up on them from behind...clear them out a bit-

 _Hiss!_

Sophie, to her credit, didn't freeze. She didn't have time, and the hard-boiled survival instincts bred into anyone who'd grown up in a haven brought her around with blinding speed. She got her gun up, too, and her eye to the sight, and before her heartbeat had skipped or her conscious mind had realized what was bearing down on her, she'd even squeezed the trigger.

Unfortunately, she'd also missed.

" _Mein gott_ -"

That was all she got out, as hands with three long fingers that tapered into claws seized her. One wrapped around her throat, the other drove into her shoulder, and both were freezing. Sophie screamed as claws went in her, and red came out-

Cold wafted her face, and her scream muffled as ice formed over her from eyebrows down. But she could still hurt, and she could still see through the hazy frost.

She could see the Viper King's jaws open, and she couldn't close her eyes as its fangs drove into her head.

Her shriek was soundless.

* * *

 _Splash, splash!_

"Huh..." She groaned, as the world twisted and shook...

"Did we lose them?" Liang cried, from somewhere out of sight. Water gurgled, and Julie Richardson was very certain she heard people splashing in it.

"I don't know. But this is the river." Elena paused there, as if considering. "Come on! Raj and Mordecai are down this way. We leave the water and push into the rocks."

"What...what happened?" Julie's throat was dry. "Can I have some water?"

"Julie?" That was Mox, and he hesitated for a moment. "You should rest."

"Yeah, probably." It was amazing how luridly clear everything was. The redhead coughed, reaching for her stomach. "Are you...carrying me?"

"You were shot."

"Oh. Poo." Julie sighed. "That sucks." The psi-op contemplated for a moment. "Can I confide in you?"

"Julie-"

"I think I'm high off my ass," she observed, watching the water form kaleidoscope patters in the wake of the point man's footsteps. "Am I high?"

"She's awake," Mox observed. "Outrider-"

"I gave her all the painkillers and sedatives I had." Elena sounded worried. Why? Julie wasn't really in any position to judge.

"Can I please have some water?" she repeated, reaching down for it. "It looks cold."

"Elena, she's going to die." Julie wondered who Liang was talking about. "We can't just be carrying her all over India."

"We won't have to for long. Raj can look at her once we're safe."

"Who, me?" Julie frowned. "I feel fine. I just want a drink."

"You're bleeding all over Mox's shoulder."

"Well, that's just the time of the month-"

"Leaving the river." Elena didn't sound particularly lenient, and Julie stewed.

"Bye, water." She waved. "I miss you."

"Come on." Mox patted her shoulder. "We're not going to be moving much longer."

"Your shoulder kind of hurts my chest," Julie admitted. "I'm not comfortable."

"Just hang in there," Liang encouraged. "You're going to be all right. We promise."

"We do." Elena rounded a bend in the trail. "We're just going to..."

"Hm?" Julie glanced ahead...and paused when she saw what Elena had. "Oh. _Poo_."

" _Mor Balaten_ ," ordered the Advent officer at the head of what must have been a dozen soldiers and purifiers, with two sectoids and a viper in support. " _Donut!_ "

* * *

"Sophie!" Jane spun, bringing her shotgun to bear on a small gap between containment units. She started for the other side, swearing under her breath. "If you've hurt her, you bastard-"

She made it two steps.

 _Hiss!_

"Oh, fuck!" Jane tumbled as the King burst from cover, ignoring David and Aileen battling its neonate minions. Blood ran from its jaws, and in that instant the Irishwoman knew Sophie was dead.

"Son of a bitch-" But she only managed to get to one knee and block desperately, using her shotgun to parry overhead attacks. Gamma used its Bolt Caster as a club, battering madly at Jane's defense until she was sure her trusty firearm was going to break.

But it didn't, and Jane finally managed to knock the King's weapon away and bring hers to bear.

 _Boom!_

Armor or not, a full load of buckshot at point blank range is something no one can walk off. The King was no different, and it stumbled from the hit, clutching its dented chestpiece. Emboldened, Jane worked the pump and-

 _Click_.

"Shit-" Jane cut herself off then, and without a word she threw her gun away, grabbing for the axes over her shoulder. Left-handed she drew the first one, and while the Viper was still recoiling she threw the weapon straight into its midsection.

 _That_ seemed to piss it off, and it lunged. Jane got her other axe out in time, but her first strike went wide, and that gave Gamma its opening. Icy fingers seized her, and Jane screamed as she found herself flung halfway across the chamber. She hit the far wall spine-first with a _bang_ that could probably be heard on the _Avenger_ , and then she slid to her hands and knees, gasping for breath-

And Gamma seized her, slithering up out of nowhere and baring its fangs. It shrieked, and Jane's eyes widened-

"Stop touching her!"

 _Crack!_

The King convulsed. It thrashed and howled as electricity bore over its body, and Jane shielded her eyes, skittering off for cover near Bradford and Cameron. She got a good look at Aileen, lowering the Bolt Caster with an expression of absolute murder.

Then David hit Gamma from behind with his machinegun butt, and the creature regained its senses. It whirled, and the Australian yelped as fangs snapped for his head.

"Stupid...lizard!" he howled, as it drove him back into the rock wall of the cavern. He ducked as it slashed, ripping stones apart with its wicked talons.

Jane had none of her weapons. She'd thrown one axe, lost the other one, and her shotgun(empty) lay halfway across the chamber.

But that was all right, because when she scrambled to her feet and turned, she reached out and seized the long protruding hilt from Bradford's back.

Glamdring burst from the ice with a metallic _shing_ , responding to Jane and gleaming in the light. Gamma hesitated at the noise, and it turned just in time to see the Ranger lunge his way. Glamdring's point led her on, and by luck or skill or the will of a God she didn't believe in, Jane found her appropriated blade's tip driving straight into Gamma's left eye.

The shriek was unbelievable. Jane screamed as it bowled her over, throwing her on the ground. David collapsed too, and Aileen covered her ears. Gamma covered its face, howling agony and freezing half the ceiling with that wicked ice spit, yellow blood leaking between its long fingers.

Jane still had Glamdring, and she took it in both hands, forcing her way up to one knee with as much game determination as she could muster. The King gave her a long, searching look.

And then it screamed again, much shriller and less agonized, and Jane clutched her head. Purple light filled the world, and wind hissed and ripped, tugging at her clothes and snapping up floating papers and notes that must have been Vahlen's-

" _It's opening some sort of psionic gateway!_ " Tygan cried. " _I cannot fathom why Vahlen would have allowed it to retain this capability_ -"

" _Kill it! Before it gets away!_ " That was bloody easy for Gallant to say, back on the ship. Jane nearly told him as much, but at the last second, she supposed she was already in enough shit with the old man.

So instead, she slashed, and instead, she missed. Instead-

"Fuck!" Jane collapsed on her hands and knees as those ice-cold talons ripped furrows down her flank. She half-expected fangs to follow, but the King clearly had no time for her. Even as the Ranger rolled over on her good side, struggling to inch away from her enemy and get purchase to rise, it shot for the whirling violet vortex at the heart of the chamber. Light pulsed, and Jane covered her eyes-

 _Bang!_

"It's gone!" David shouted. "It got away!"

"Oh, thank God." Jane struggled to her feet, coughing and grabbing for Bradford's sword. "The neonates?"

" _I'm not detecting any more life signs in that area_ ," Tygan said. " _Human...or otherwise_."

"Good." Jane stumbled over to the statues in the center of the chamber, and she raised Glamdring. "Hang on, Cameron!"

The ice shattered in one go when she brought her swordhilt down on the rookie's shoulder. He gasped, and only Aileen's lunge kept him from hitting the ground. He shivered and his teeth chattered, and from the blue of his fingers and nose, Jane suspected he might have already contracted frostbite.

"Nessie, medical detail," Aileen ordered. "Come on, Rogers. Stay with me. It's going to be okay, I promise." She looked around. "David, find me something warm. A heater, or something to build a fire."

"Right." The Aussie hesitated. "Jane, your side-"

"Later." She ignored David, hurrying to Bradford to repeat her performance, free hand coming away from her ribs bloody.

 _Crack! Crack!_

"Did it get away?" Bradford ripped one arm free from the ice the instant it broke enough, and then he burst forth with two great strides, eyes hard as he scanned the room. "It got away, didn't it?"

"Sir." Jane sank to one knee, teeth gritted. She offered the blade. "Yours. Sir."

"Right." Bradford took it. He glanced to Rogers and his minders, then Jane. "Sorry, sergeant. I need you on your feet."

"My pleasure. Sir." She groaned, trying not to show how grateful she was when he offered his hand. "Why?"

"We need to sweep the place for drives and docs," Bradford ordered. "Anything that could be of use. I bet we'll see our new friend again." He eyed Kelly. "Then we call Firebrand and go back to the _Avenger_. And then..."

"Oh. You heard." Jane scoffed. "Not a problem for now, is it, sir?"

"...no. Not for now." Bradford turned away. "You skate thin ice, Kelly. I hope you didn't just break it." He paused by Rogers for a moment. "You two keep him warm. We'll bring Weber with us when we call Firebrand."

* * *

Elena swallowed as she beheld the company facing her. How they'd discovered her extraction plan was anyone's guess. Maybe that was the answer right there: a lucky guess. Elena liked that answer: there was a reason they called it _dumb_ luck.

" _Mor balaten_ ," seethed the officer, approaching her with the lanky, unhurried stride of a man who knew he held all the cards. Elena hated his guts.

"What's he saying?" Julie wondered. "What's a _balaten_? Why does he want more? Doesn't he have enough?" She coughed. "How many balatens does one man need? Can't a girl keep hers?"

Elena almost shot the officer. She knew Liang would open fire, and Mox would drop Julie in a safe place so he could engage with her rifle. They could take quite a few of them, since they were standing in the open like that.

But Elena's company was in the open too, and whereas she'd gladly have gone to a fighting end herself - and Liang certainly would have been cheery to join her, along with Mox - she couldn't condemn Julie to death so callously. She had to _try_ and keep the psi-op alive, and maybe if Advent thought they could learn something from her, they'd stabilize her. Gallant could organize a better-fated rescue mission then.

Elena's own potential survival was never a factor in her decision.

Slowly, she lowered her vektor to the ground. She heard Liang growl, but the Grenadier had obviously done the same calculations and come to the same conclusion. Julie's rifle fell from Mox's grip.

" _Eat pizza, cool_." The officer waved. " _Call a taxi!_ "

Elena kept her hands behind her head when two soldiers seized her. The rest of the officer's detail grabbed Liang and Mox and Julie, and for a moment, they were all patted down and searched. The Reaper waited until her captors were satisfied, and offered no resistance when they flung her to her knees in the dirt. A moment later, Liang and Mox landed at her right, and Julie was roughly dropped beyond them.

She looked so weak...

"She's going to die," Liang snapped. "Do you have a medic?"

" _Mor balaten_ ," the officer replied, turning away. Liang ground her teeth.

"She's been _shot_ , you bastard!"

" _Donut!_ " One of the soldiers hit her with the butt of Julie's rifle. Liang spat blood, while Mox growled.

Elena just frowned, staring into the trees. It had to have been the wind...

There _was_ no wind.

" _Bit of old vinegars_." The officer waved, and a soldier loomed, drawing his rifle. The sectoids chittered to themselves, and the viper hissed with amusement. Elena swallowed.

"Well, at least we die quickly," Liang mused, as the soldier took aim at Julie. For just a moment, Elena was afraid.

Then she resolved what it was she'd seen, and her stomach muscles clenched in an altogether different way.

 _Pow!_

It was a strange noise. It wasn't the _bang_ of a rifle, or the _boom_ of a shotgun. It wasn't loud and deep like a heavy weapon. If anything, it sounded...electronic. A _pulse_ of something, beating through the air in a narrow lance, moving faster than the eye could track.

A pulse of red light that took the soldier in the back of the head, boiling his brains in a flash.

"What the-"

Elena jumped to her feet, ignoring Liang. She seized Julie's rifle from the nearest soldier, and in a heartbeat she heard her Grenadier and even Mox in his weakened state lunging for the nearest weapons. The alien patrol whirled on the trees-

 _Pew! Pew! Pew!_ More of those red _beams_ burst from the shadows, ripping into Advent and aliens alike with callous precision. They boiled flesh and burned through armor, filling the clearing with the acrid tang of charred meat.

"Gotcha!" Elena threw her victim down, and a moment later she poured fire from the assault rifle into his chest. He thrashed, and she vaguely heard her vektor _crack_ and the bolt work from further back in her line. She turned to fire at the first purifier she saw, turning his weapon on the treeline, and before she could open up she saw Mox with Julie's amp in hand, tackling the officer and proceeding to use the weapon as a bludgeon with savage effectiveness.

Someone hit the purifier before she could. It screamed as purple light seared around its head, driving knives in its ears and eyes. Elena actually winced as the thing fell, thrashing wildly and pathetically.

Then the viper collapsed overtop the two sectoids, riddled by rapid beam fire...and there were abruptly no more hostiles.

"...is this a good turn or bad?" Julie asked, from where Mox knelt over her, bloody amp discarded. Elena and Liang traded a glance.

They melted from the trees. There were six of them, dressed the same: thick, padded armor that seemed to be made from alien alloys wrapped around limbs and torsos like some kind of carapace, mottled green to blend in with the trees. All their weapons looked like family, with matching boxy designs with visible red-glowing power cores and running coolant lines, but Elena was sure the blond man's was a sniper rifle, with its longer barrel and high-powered targeting scope. And those two looming from the center had to be carrying heavy weapon variants with multiple barrels and a rotary design.

She warily eyed the scarred, tanned woman who took what seemed to be a very firm second-place position behind one of the heavies. She was physically unimposing, with her small frame and bob haircut...but Elena had only to glance at Julie's eyes to see the underlying similarity between the women. If anything, this newcomer's purple was deeper and more vibrant than Julie's...or any other Gifted Elena had ever seen.

"You serve XCOM," said the heavy in front, and Elena immediately pegged him as the leader. No one with any doubt as to his right to speak would use that tone of voice with her.

"I am a-"

"I know what you are, Reaper." He didn't sound very intimidated either. "You are Volk's attaché with XCOM. Granted when the organization rose from the ashes."

"Please." That was Liang, and though Elena didn't break eye contact with the newcomers' leader, she knew the woman had to be kneeling with Julie in her arms. "Do you have a medic? She's been shot. She's going to die."

That gave them pause. The man and woman off to the side, so alike in the face they had to be siblings, gave each other aside glances. The blond sniper loomed, pursing his lips. The psionic grimaced. The other heavy sighed, pausing for a drink from a hip flask. The motion revealed the Argentinean flag on the back of his armor.

And their leader didn't flinch. Elena stared him down.

"Go." He waved, and the psionic detached herself from his side. Elena almost sighed with relief when she knelt over Julie, producing a medkit and quickly pulling open her wound.

"I will patch her up," the woman said, with a musical accent. "You'll be on your way soon. _Je promets_."

"Who are you?" Elena narrowed her eyes. "Why help us?"

"We're just like you." A smile might have touched the leader's lips at that. "We are allies." He turned away. "We will create a diversion down south. The aliens will pursue us, and you will be clear to escape to your contacts deeper in the rocks." He waved, and the four unoccupied soldiers in his unit started into the trees. Elena counted two Egyptians and an American in addition to the Argentinean.

But what took her breath away was the insignia under the flags.

"Yes, Reaper." The heavy chuckled. "We are XCOM. The _true_ XCOM."

"Go." The medic/psionic rose, reclaiming her rifle. "Your friend will survive until you can get her to safety. Be gentle with her and ensure she gets something to drink as soon as possible."

"Thank you," Mox muttered. The medic might have smiled.

Then she was off after her fellows, and Elena ground her teeth together. She took half a step after the leader, and she paused when he turned to glare over his shoulder.

"You want to know more."

"Yes. And you'll tell me." Elena clutched the rifle tightly. "Who are you?"

The scar over his eye tightened as he smiled. "Very well, Reaper. Your masters will know me as Chilong."

Then he turned for the trees, leaving Elena and her team standing alone in a sea of smoldering corpses.

* * *

 **Author's Note 19: No I Will Not Explain**

 _*evil cackle*_

I've been waiting to drop _this_ on you since the _beginning of this fanfic_. Most of the late twists are the first things I figure out when writing, and the _how-to_ is the big deal. Mendoza's death, for example, was the first thing I decided about him. Well, that and the fact that he needed to be set up as if he had a subplot that mattered and then get killed almost at random, in the most nondramatic fashion possible. Just like one of the first things I decided when assembling the outline was that _this_ was going to happen.

No explanations. No apologies. Stick along for the ride - it gets wild from here on out.

Until next time, _Vigilo Confido_.


	20. Beyond Human

_Please remember to favorite and follow!_

* * *

 _"Leadership is solving problems. The day soldiers stop bringing you their problems is the day you have stopped leading them. They have either lost confidence you can help or concluded you do not care. Either case is a failure of leadership."_

 _~Colin Powell_

* * *

 **Chapter Twenty: Beyond Human**

It was cold. It was dull white, too, with shades of gray to break up the monotony, lit by overhead fluorescent bulbs that might have come from the 2000s.

Edward Gallant's breath misted in front of him, every time his shaking chest rose and fell. He leaned on his cane left-handed, barely feeling the chill as it dug into his bones and burrowed under his skin. It was one of those things that should have mattered, but it somehow...didn't.

Before him on a gurney lay Sophie Weber, still marred by those horrible fang marks.

"Figured I'd find you here, sir."

Gallant sighed. "Central."

"Commander." Bradford settled into place at Gallant's side. Together, they observed the German for a long moment, equally somber.

"It's my fault," Gallant muttered.

"That's not true."

"Damn right it is true. If I had ordered her to pull back into the group, or sent someone to reinforce her..."

"Things happen fast. One man, even a commander, can only do so much."

"Then what am I even here for?" Gallant knew he sounded bleak, but the corpse before him was a powerful depressive.

"You give us a fighting chance," Bradford muttered.

Gallant's insides might have been warmer than the morgue, but then again, they might not have. "Do I? Do I really?" He reached out to put a hand on Weber's still shoulder, and it brought back the whole chain of faces: Mendoza, Nunez, Larsen's teammates, the other soldiers of the Old War, Army Rangers in Iraq...

"Sir, you're a masterful strategist and a capable battlefield tactician. But no one's perfect." Bradford shifted his weight, leaning in on the corner of his CO's vision. "We all make mistakes. You're not God."

"When _I_ drop a stitch..." Gallant swallowed, tightening his grip on Weber's uniform. He didn't think he had to finish the thought. "God." He turned the name over in his head. "Tell the truth, John, but I don't know that I believe any more."

"Why?"

"All of it." Gallant couldn't bear to look at the young woman - the _corpse_ \- anymore, and looking at Bradford was out of the question. He eyed the far wall without seeing it, shivering. "Advent. The elders. Losing the war."

"People have lost wars before. That doesn't mean-"

" _Humanity_ lost the war," Gallant snapped. "Surely He wouldn't have..."

Silence. Neither man spoke for long minutes.

"Have you talked to the chaplain?" Bradford finally asked. Gallant shook his head.

"To what point and purpose? Everyone on the ship would know in ten hours that the Commander was in the confessional, too. Morale would drop."

"Morale's not so fragile as all that-"

"Have you been paying attention to _any_ of this?" Gallant demanded. "The crew's morale hangs by a _thread_ , John. You and I are the rocks holding them together."

" _Your_ morale hangs by a thread," Bradford corrected, which made Gallant stiffen. "With all due respect, I think you need to look beyond your own pain a little more, sir."

"Meaning?" Gallant knew it came out through clenched teeth, but he couldn't help it.

"Meaning every man and woman on this ship is a volunteer, and they all knew what they signed up to do. Meaning that while Mendoza, Weber, and Nunez were all their friends - and Ramirez and Osei too - they've lost friends before joining XCOM." Bradford shook his head. "Sir, they're not close to breaking. It would take a lot more than this to accomplish that. It's _your_ faith that's shaking."

Gallant listened to the faint _drip...drip_ of a minor coolant leak. Or maybe there was a patch of ice somewhere that was succumbing to nature. It was cold, but not _that_ cold, not with the _Avenger_ soaring over India. Climate control was all well and good, but not even the aliens could-

 _Woolgathering, Edward_. Gallant took a slight breath.

"What do I do?" he asked.

"Have a little more faith," Bradford urged. "Trust our people a little more. You're _not_ the only one responsible for whatever happens, good or ill. Sergeants White and Quinn are professionals, and they were capable soldiers even before they joined the team. Not to mention Dragunova!"

There was one name he didn't drop, and Gallant's nostrils flared as he took the responsibility. "Kelly."

"...Kelly." Bradford shifted his weight again. "Sir, she's one hell of a soldier. I couldn't have gotten you out of Paris without her, and she's only improved."

"But?"

"But." Bradford's eyes darkened. "What are you going to do to her?"

"Well..." Gallant didn't exactly want to mention the thoughts coursing in the depths of his mind, as he thought of the sergeant's obscene insubordination. "I've had a couple of ideas. Between you and me and..." He couldn't bring himself to mention the corpse in so callous a way. "Between us...what would you do?"

"Me?" Bradford's jaw tightened. "Bust her back down to corporal, sir. Or transfer her to Shen's grease monkeys, or the supply packers."

"Generous, aren't you?" Gallant wondered. "Trying to temper my worse instincts?"

"I know your _first_ thought would be to run her off the ship, sir. While she's airborne."

Gallant's lip curled. "And also my second, I'll admit."

"Sir..." Bradford hesitated. "We could use her skills for the war."

"Yes," Gallant admitted, without hesitation. "But she's a discipline problem. If I don't give her a suitably severe fate, others will be tempted to echo her actions. I can't let her off the hook that easily."

"Commander-"

"Sir!" The door burst open. Gallant turned a hair faster than Bradford(who looked remarkably unhappy), and he was the first to see Lily Shen, poised in the doorway with a big grin.

"Yes, Chief?" Gallant frowned. "What's got you so chipper?"

"Sir, we just received a burst signal," Shen said. "It's from a handheld transmitter operating on the Resistance network. Set up in southern India, sir."

Gallant abruptly stiffened. "Draguonva?"

"Yes, sir." Shen's grin only widened. "They recovered Mox from the prison. Richardson was hit, but she's in good shape now and expected to make a full recovery." She hesitated. "Sir, I took the liberty of ordering Firebrand to pick them up-"

"Good man!" Gallant clapped her on the shoulder, leaving her perplexed in his wake as he energetically thumped by. "Finally, some _good_ news!"

* * *

"You're _joking!_ " Bradford looked like he'd taken a crowbar to the stomach. "You're..."

"I'm what?" Elena Dragunova lounged in her chair, across from Commander Gallant's desk, rather surprised to be holding a glass half-full of red wine. She'd barely gotten in and saluted before he'd shoved it at her, chortling the whole while.

Honestly, it somewhat unnerved her. He was _happy_. Why was Gallant _happy_? He looked like a sectoid who'd just mind-controlled a haven leader, or a hungry viper who'd broken into a preschool. Something positively _nasty_ had occurred to him, and he was in a spell of rare high spirits. Screw _somewhat_ , and screw _unnerved_ too. Elena was outright _scared_.

Of course, given what she'd had to say about her mysterious rescuers, even his cheer had started to dampen into incredulous shock too.

" _Chilong_..." Gallant shook his head slowly. "Haven't heard that name since the Old War."

"Sir?" Elena tilted her head. "You _do_ know this man?"

"Did. Past tense." Gallant blinked slowly. "He has to be pushing seventy, _at least_...more like eighty. He was in his fifties in Shanghai..."

"His name is Shaojie Zhang," Bradford supplied. "A former Triad operative whose boss came into possession of an alien transponder beacon. We...still aren't entirely sure how. Zhang didn't even know when he offered it - and his services - to us."

"Did you do anything exciting with it?" Elena asked. Gallant shook his head, but Bradford remained pensive.

"There wasn't time," the Commander replied. "Too many other things-"

"With respect, sir..." Bradford coughed. "Doctor Shen took it when we escaped the base. The Shens and I pulled it off the shelf a few years ago when we realized it could be used as a lure to draw an alien ship in to an area of our choosing."

Gallant's jaw dropped. "You used it to get the _Avenger_."

"Shen senior had to modify it a bit, but yeah." Bradford glanced around. "Always wished I could pat Zhang on the back, buy him a round, and take him on a tour of what his generosity wound up giving us."

"There were others with him," Elena said. "Two women, three men."

"Describe them." Gallant observed her closely.

"Two of them must have been siblings. Egyptians." No recognition flitted through her audience's eyes, so Elena continued. "An American, blond, with the manner of a sniper." She hesitated. "They didn't...their eyes were normal, but something about them seemed psionic."

"Did any of them have amps?" Gallant asked. Elena shook her head.

"Certain low-level psionic abilities can be used by the Gifted without them," Bradford argued. "At least, that's what Vahlen always theorized, before the base fell. It's possible they uncovered those base powers even without specialized equipment - or that theirs operates differently. Implants, maybe."

"Fair." Gallant nodded. "The others?"

"I didn't see much of the heavy with Zhang, but he was Argentinean. And the woman..." Elena shook her head. "She was perhaps forty-five, but still quite spry and agile. She had witty eyes, intelligent eyes, _purple_ eyes...a pronounced French accent. She was their medical specialist, but she radiated power in a way not even Julie does. She didn't have an amp either, but I was _positive_ she was a psionic."

 _Now_ she saw acknowledgment in her commanders' faces, and she didn't like the way their lips thinned. Elena shifted her weight, taking a little sip.

"Is this...something I can ask about?"

"No." Bradford's voice cracked like a gunshot. Gallant didn't argue, and Elena accepted her defeat.

"Very well. Is there anything else I can help you with?"

"Not at the moment." Gallant leaned back. "Or, not directly. If you could find Doctor Tygan and have his staff detail someone to help you write up a full after-action report-"

"I have a handwritten one here." Elena produced a sheaf of notes. "It may be hard to read, but-"

"That's spectacular." Bradford took the documents, reaching for his reading glasses. "We'll send them down to Tygan's people when we're done with them."

"Yes. Thank you, corporal." Gallant paused. "As soon as we've sifted through all of this, expect your sergeant's stripes."

"Sir." Elena was entirely more comfortable discussing aliens and gunfire than promotion. "Is that a dismissal, Commander?"

"Yes, corporal." Gallant didn't rise when she did, but Elena remembered his cane in time to not get offended. "Get yourself some rest. And let the infirmary staff know I'd like an update on Julie's condition as soon as they can spare the time to send it."

* * *

"Oh my _god_." Gallant leaned back in his chair the instant Elena left the room, and he stared at Bradford through wide eyes. "I don't believe it. I _don't_ believe it."

"It's easy to see how Zhang might have gotten out of the base," Bradford observed. "He was core to a lot of our field ops, and the man could probably fist-fight an old muton, at least back then. He ran the boxing ring and _ruled_ it."

"You two never matched up," Gallant reminded his XO. "I'd have paid good money."

"Never thought it sounded fair, beating up an old guy." Bradford paused. "I wonder how many of the kids refrain from hitting the ring with _me_ on that logic?"

"Zhang escaping the base: possible. Even probable. I never thought about it, but now that the fact's been shoved in my face, I should have expected he'd gotten out." Gallant rubbed his chin. "The Argentinean she mentioned. Do you think..."

"If you suspect Marcel..." Bradford trailed off. "Sir, I think that's entirely likely, too. A soldier of his experience would have made it out all right if anyone would have - and it's possible he and Zhang paired up to blast their way out. They usually deployed together."

"And those energy weapons she described sound a lot like Vahlen's early sketches of laser-based weaponry." Gallant felt a kindling stir of hope. "Maybe..."

"Sir, most likely they got out with prototypes or documents and did their best to copy them and fill in the holes."

"But there was a base that Vahlen was using, not far from India," Gallant pointed out. "You were there. What if they regrouped with her and tried to form their own resistance? Zhang said they were XCOM."

"We can't afford to become certain of anything right now." That Bradford was steering Gallant away from Vahlen and hunting her down was obvious, and he almost snapped back. Unfortunately(fortunately?), Bradford distracted his attention with another key point. "What about Annette, though?"

"Annette." Gallant picked up a pencil and rolled it thoughtfully between his palms. "Tell you the truth, John, I assumed EXALT had finished her off since support obviously never came in."

"I tried to find her," Bradford said. "I had the same thought. But she was all the way in Nigeria with nothing but a sidearm, and we were at base in the US. And I had to shepherd the Shens. By the time we got there, Annette's cover had obviously been blown and EXALT was all over the area looking for her. I assumed they'd caught her too, and got my group to safety." He snorted. "Sometimes I wonder what the EXALT people thought, when they finally met their alien friends for the first time. EXALT formed the nucleus of Advent, I'm sure, but I know the aliens executed their entire leadership group first to make it clear who was in charge."

"But if Annette _escaped_ them..." Gallant chewed on that thought. "Those others. She mentioned _others_ several times."

"You're thinking she found Zhang and Marcel, and the three of them rescued her former fellow abductees?"

"Do you have a better theory?" Gallant leaned back. "That explains where this team of six came from, though how they've managed to operate without anyone in our group hearing even a whisper for _twenty years_ would be more than I'd be prepared to guess. Then again, _Vahlen_ clearly managed it." He didn't explicitly draw the connection again, but implicit connections had a value all of their own.

"Maybe." Bradford must have noticed, but he soldiered on without acknowledging it. "It doesn't explain how Zhang, Annette, and the others could rescue Dragunova so well."

"It's possible they spotted Firebrand when she was coming in," Gallant suggested. "Or heard the ruckus at the facility and moved to investigate."

"Possible, though that doesn't clear up why they were in India to start with. It's a big world."

"And coincidences _do_ happen," Gallant reminded. "Others, of course, are _made_ to happen, and we might want to consider that Annette or her friends might be able to affect the minds of some of our people. They could have plucked information from the _Avenger_ in passing as we flew by, or from Dragunova's team during the insertion, without getting all too close. Armed with that knowledge, they might have decided to stick around and see what happened, especially if they figured out that you and I were their leaders."

"Possibly." Bradford turned the idea over in his head. "I don't want to get too... _tinfoil_ -y, but it's possible." He took a breath. "I'll look into it. Maybe Volk and Betos know more, or can help us learn."

"Do it." Gallant contemplated the ceiling for a moment. "But not yet."

"Sir?" Bradford frowned. Gallant chuckled humorlessly.

"There's someone waiting outside we should probably deal with first. Bring her in."

* * *

It was dark, save the omnipresent green glow. It was still, save the gentle rumbling in the floor. It was quiet, save for the faint _hum_ from below and aside.

And except for the faint sniffling tears.

Evangeline Moreau huddled in the corner of a glass tube - only it wasn't really _glass_ , not with how hard she'd hammered on it earlier in the day. It surely would have broken, and she'd been quite prepared to risk the damage to her hands.

Part of the darkness, she knew, was the lack of her glasses. Everything was fuzzy and indistinct, but she could tell she was at the center of a darkened facility that gave literal meaning to the phrase _black site_.

In spite of herself, that thought made her almost want to smile.

 _Idiot!_ She twisted her head down, covering her eyes in a flash. _What's funny about any of this? You're going to_ die _, Evangeline, and you're sitting here thinking up crackpot puns?_

Her own words came down like the strikes from a lash, and Evangeline's eyes burst with tears again.

"I'm going to die," she whispered, not for the first time. The rumors she'd spent her life dismissing came back into her head: experimentation, torture, vivisection...

She'd never believed. Evangeline had been barely ten when the aliens came and the Old World's governments assailed them under a flag of truce. Her father had never been resigned to the occupation and Advent, but her mother had thought it all marvelous.

 _World peace_ , she'd enthused many times. _No more senseless wars...ever again_.

And so Evangeline Durant had grown up in a Paris that answered to Advent, in the nexus of the coalition's affluence and authority in Western Europe. She had friends who worked for Advent. She'd interned with a base commander once, before she had gotten her current job!

But there had always been the rumors, even after she got married, and now she was certain that she shouldn't have dismissed them out of hand.

She sat naked in the dark, on cold metal and surrounded by clear walls, weeping and hugging herself.

She wished for Henri. She wasn't a little girl any more, and couldn't climb into her mother's lap when she wanted everything to be better, but her husband was almost as good comfort. She desperately wanted to be back with him, and with their son.

 _He'll never know what happened to me_ , she thought. _I just...vanished without a trace_.

Funny. Despite the uncountable days of her captivity, it wasn't until that moment that Evangeline finally made the connection between her current plight and the spate of disappearances. In fact, the connection was enough to make her pause, eyes widening.

 _No_ , she thought. _No! That's not...there's no way they could take_ that _many people...it's those terrorists_...

She stopped. Using that word to describe people who fought against Advent suddenly no longer seemed respectful. In fact, this quiet Parisian whose wildest dream was to be a housewife and caring mother suddenly found herself wishing to be caught up in a "terrorist" raid.

"There's no guarantee they would save me," she reminded herself. "They're criminals. Mercenaries. Raiders and pillagers...they'd see me like this and..." Her hand rose to the base of her throat, and she shivered.

She thought of Nathan again, and a very dark, very terrifying thought presented itself to her.

"They examined me," she muttered. "They checked all my genetics...it was at the clinic that I was taken. What if they found something about me...something _genetic_..."

It took every ounce of her self-control not to fling herself to her feet. Evangeline had thrown hands and shoulder and feet at the clear wall long enough to know it wouldn't break. She couldn't get out that way.

 _But I_ will _get out_ , she swore, and her fuzzy gaze hardened. _I'm_ not _going to die, not when Nathan could be next. I'm going to survive, and I'm going to find my way out of here_.

She clenched her fists and teeth. Evangeline Moreau dug her nails into her palm, and searing worry and rage morphed into icy determination.

 _I'm_ not _going to die_.

* * *

"Kelly."

Jane looked up, then hurriedly stood. It was a crappy stool they'd left sitting out before the Commander's office, but any seat was better than none, so she was in two minds about whether she missed it.

"Central?" She made sure to sketch a salute.

"He's ready." The old man's eyes were hard. "Come on."

"Sir." Jane didn't suppose a protest was going to make this any easier. She squared her shoulders. "Yes, sir."

Her boots fell on _Avenger_ 's heavy plating. Her insides churned as she cast around for some method of escaping Gallant's wrath. He didn't strike her as a lenient man, and she had told him...

But there was nothing. She couldn't run, and she couldn't argue or fight. All she could do was face her future and her fate with spine straight and chin turned up.

She passed Bradford, and then she was in the dragon's lair.

"Sergeant Kelly, Commander." Bradford hung in the doorway. "Present for disciplinary action."

"Sir." Jane saluted as crisply as she could this time, trying to stay impassive as the battered man across his desk eyed her very seriously. He reached for his cane, but instead of rising he laid it across his lap.

"I see this." Gallant nodded. "That will be all, Central."

"Sir..." Bradford didn't sound happy, but Jane didn't dare look. "Sir-"

"Trust me, Central: if she still has her sergeant's bars when she walks out of this room, she's all yours." Gallant's gaze hardened, and Jane suppressed a gulp. "That will be all, John."

"...sir." Bradford sounded imperfectly resigned, but Jane supposed he could read the signal flags in Gallant's eyes even better than she could, with their history. That frightened her, because _she_ saw hurricane warnings, even purely with her amateur's view. Bradford had a reputation as a hard-ass when it came to the wire on military discipline, but this was different.

Nothing had ever frightened Jane Kelly as much as the _whoosh_ of the door sealing in the XO's wake.

"I would go over what's come between us, but I think you remember as well as I do." Gallant leaned back. "Not just on the ground in Southeast Asia, either: I still remember the wake of Sweden."

"Sir." Jane didn't trust herself, but her temper stirred. Unwisely, she relented to it, just a hair. "I did what I thought was right."

"Of course." Gallant scowled. "Because that's what soldiers are for. Judging what's right and suborning their leaders' directives."

"Your leadership didn't save Mendoza or Nunez." Jane's lack of self-trust had probably been wise, while it lasted.

"Watch yourself, Sergeant." Gallant's lips thinned. "I'm not a patient man."

"Yeah, that's obvious." Screw it. Jane couldn't see any way she was getting out of this office without a discharge or so severe a punishment she'd _wish_ for one. If she was getting kicked off the ship, she'd damn well earn it. "You're reckless, aggressive, and generally pissy. _Sir_."

"Am I?" Gallant didn't fly into a rage, but she saw sparks in his eyes. Jane's lip curled.

"Bradford promised us a Commander who could defeat Advent. Instead, we got you."

"Poor you." Gallant's grip on his cane might have tightened. "Not interested in stroking my ego to save your place on this ship?"

"I've seen how you treat Shen, and Tygan. Even Central!" Jane shook her head. "You act like he's your friend, but you don't trust him. No one can steer you off your anger without an effort worthy of Hercules. Your temper will tear you to pieces before all's said and done, sir, that and your obsessions and self-loathing."

"You're pushing a dangerous line," Gallant warned, and there was a heavy undercurrent in his tone. "Be glad John's not in here. He'd have put you through the window by now."

"I don't care!" Jane leaned forward on Gallant's desk. "Mendoza didn't have to die, sir, and neither did Nunez or Sophie. Maybe if you'd listen to others, take your medication without a brawl, recognize your own limitations-"

"Limitations!" Okay, that had done it. Gallant's voice went up in that one word, loud enough Jane flinched, her trail breaking off. The Commander's eyes blazed with full-on fire now, sparks a distant memory. "Don't lecture me, _Sergeant!_ You have your list, but I have mine!"

"Do you?" Jane rallied as quickly as she could, clenching her fists. "I lost _everything_ to Advent! All my friends, all my family! And I'm told we have a _chance_ of winning, and it turns out-"

"Get a lid on it!" Gallant ordered. Jane's eyes went wide as his cane shot out, rapping her firmly right over her heart. "Why don't you pause for a minute and...and..." He coughed. "Think about something other than your own..."

"...sir?" Jane wavered on her feet as his offensive sputtered out. She waited as he put a hand to his chest, squeezing his eyes shut. "Sir?"

Silence, save Gallant's heavy breathing. Jane hesitated, watching him struggle to get air in. Her eyes flicked across his desk, until she spotted a little container full of red pills.

 _Oh...screw it!_

"Sir, is this..." She grabbed the container, popping the lid with shaking hands. "Here!" She pulled a pill and grabbed his free hand. "Sir-"

Gallant grunted. Jane let him wrench his hand away, and she waited while he dry-swallowed the little tablet. For another minute he struggled, but gradually Jane watched color return to her CO's face, and his shaking evened out.

More silence. Jane almost called for Tygan and the medical team, but she wasn't sure...

"You're lucky, Kelly." Gallant coughed one more time, sucking in a deep breath through his nose. "Your friend blew up God knows how much X4 mere yards away from you, and you walked it off. Then there's me."

"Sir..." That flabbergasted Jane. "How do you know-"

"There's things called personnel files. Look them up. In fact, I have one of my own if you need bedtime reading." Gallant massaged his chest. "We're both dead men walking. Or, dead women." He glanced up at her. "You don't have to tell me I don't belong here, or that I'm not the man for the moment. Trust me, I heard all of it from people I knew a lot longer than you, after the ambush that..." He tapped his heart. "That did this."

Jane blinked. "I always thought...maybe it was a chronic something. An illness."

"Illness?" Gallant looked quietly amused. "No, Sergeant. I was a freshly minted Major, shipping out from Basra to Baghdad to meet with some high-and-mighties." He shrugged. "IED by the roadside. My driver saw it before anyone else. Tried to swerve. Probably saved my life, but it didn't do anything for him: he took the blast instead of me. The car upended." Gallant sighed. "I think I did the same thing you would have done. I didn't know where my M4 had ended up, but I had my sidearm, and at least a few men were in the hills, opening up as soon as the mines went off."

"You crawled out," Jane surmised. "Tried to fight back."

"I got two shots off. They missed." Gallant's smile was bitter and crooked. "Watched half my unit go down. Probably the worst military disaster of the year. Got to cover behind a humvee's engine block...right as someone's grenade landed on it." He seemed to slump. "Jumping wouldn't have made a difference. I just dropped my gun and closed my eyes."

"Sir..." Jane hesitated. "How'd you survive?"

"I don't even know," he confessed. "Next thing I really remember is a hospital in Alabama. Doctors, medication...physical therapy." He rubbed his face. "Penny Ferguson - one of the nurses - attached herself to me. She was with me until the end."

Jane blinked. She shifted her weight back and forth, mulling over words. In the end, she didn't have to deploy them.

"You think I don't _get_ it?" Gallant asked, voice low. "I got my whole team of Rangers killed. Before the accident, people were saying I was the next Pershing...or the next Eisenhower. He made it substantially higher than Commander, you know. I could have too, if you listened to them." Gallant's shrug was almost imperceptible. "Then I couldn't fight any more, and I got quietly put out to pasture, until Shadow Man found me. Can't help...always wondered..." He grimaced. "I always wondered if the Council actually _cared_ about winning the war, or if it was all political theater. They gave their _last line of defense_ a shoe-string budget and a crippled disaster of a commander, and acted all shocked when we couldn't hold the breach."

The _thrum_ of _Avenger_ 's engines was the only noise.

"I _get_ it, Kelly. I _get_ the disappointment you feel when you look at me." His voice was empty. "I react to the mirror the same way."

Jane swallowed. "Sir...I'm not trying to be a roadblock for you. I just..."

"You just want to win. And you don't think I can." Gallant put his cane to the deck, and he rose with a grimace of pain. "Maybe I can't, Jane, but it won't be a matter of not trying." The form of address was far from lost on her, and she wondered if it was good or bad. "But we have to work together. I can't do this without my soldiers' courage and loyalty, and I'm what you have, for better or worse, on this front."

"I...I understand, sir." Jane nodded. "Would it be worth anything if I said I'm sorry?"

"My mind was made up before you walked in here. All you've done is reinforce, to my mind, that I've made the right decision."

Jane's eyes fell. "Sir. I understand, sir."

"Good. Take off your stripes."

Jane slowly reached for her sergeant's stripes, surprised at how painful it was. She'd come in here expecting to be demoted or dismissed...why was it so hard now that it was happening? She chewed on that thought as Gallant reshuffled some of the items on his desk, and she struggled to work the pin holding her insignia. She'd thought they were embroidered on most uniforms, but XCOM pinned rank badges in place.

 _Maybe because there's no point embroidering the uniform of a man who'll probably be dead in a week_. _Pins are reusable_.

Gently, Jane Kelly set her rank badge on Commander Gallant's desk.

"Now what, sir?" she asked.

"That depends." Gallant clasped his hands behind his back, leaning on his chair. "What are you going to do?"

"Sir..." Jane swallowed. "Just because this came to a head between us, doesn't mean I won't keep fighting. I'll find a Resistance cell somewhere. Or a Haven that needs a guard."

"In it until the end. I admire that."

"I'll be rooting for you, Commander." Jane hesitantly raised a hand in salute. "Even if I won't be here to help."

"Getting ahead of yourself, aren't you?" Gallant's eyebrow arched. "Desertion, Kelly, is a worse crime than backtalk."

"Sir, you just..." Jane frowned. "I thought you were dismissing me."

"It was tempting." Then Gallant reached for her shirt, and Jane could only stare in abject confusion as he pinned something to it.

"Sir... _sir_..." Jane struggled for words. "That's a-"

"Congratulations, _Lieutenant_ Kelly." Gallant offered his hand. "I think the point's been made. And I need your clear fighting skill at this time. Of course, I also can't forget that I owe _you_ personally for Paris. Without you, I wouldn't be here to disappoint."

"Sir...I'm sorry, sir!" Jane knew it came out in a blurt, but she was having trouble keeping up. "And thank you, sir!"

"It's not all selfless," Gallant warned, as she took his hand. "You're a pain in the ass, Kelly, but I need more people who have the guts to tell me what it is I need to hear, even if I don't like it one bit." His grip was firm despite his ailments, and the glint in his eyes veered from friendly to anticipatory. "So here's the deal: you listen, you obey, and we put this mess behind us. And you feel free to _privately_ express your mind to me if you need to. I'll promise to listen. Deal?"

"Deal!" Jane paused to frown. "But sir...did you tell Central-"

"I told him enough. I said if you walked out of here with a sergeant's pin, you were all his to discipline." Gallant had a fondness for crooked smiles. "Call it a practical joke."

"Sir, you are a bit devious." Jane shook as she released his hand and stood to attention.

"I try. And not just with John." Gallant saluted. "Now, let this be the end of it, and from now on, let's turn our fire on Advent. And Kelly?"

"Sir?" She waited. Gallant gave her a warning look.

"Don't you ever tell me to screw myself again, _Lieutenant_."

* * *

 **Author's Note 20: Timey Wimey Balls**

I realize the assault on XCOM HQ was only made possible by the fact Annette was in alien captivity at the time. I realize Confounding Light and the use of Zhang's transponder come in **May**. I realize there's no conceivable way XCOM could have rescued Annette prior to the base assault, even with the psionic element out of the equation, since Deluge comes _after_ it.

 _I just don't care_.

It never made much sense to me that the base assault required super psi powers. It's an attack. The aliens could do it if they mustered the logistic strength and troop levels - the only reason it's a one-off is to avoid repeating the same level(on the game design front). Annette's requirement for the attack is a plot reason to _explain_ that single-time event, rather than an organic reason for it, so I'm handling things differently in this story and saying Deluge comes before the base assault, but after Portent and Friends in Low Places, while Confounding Light and Gangplank could happen at any time at XCOM's discretion.

I just don't want you to think I don't know my XCOM because of these canon changes. To paraphrase another alien-fighting commander: "I recognize the main game canon has invalidated my plot decisions, but given that it's a stupid-ass canon, I've elected to ignore it."

Until next time, _Vigilo Confido_.


	21. Fate and Furies

_Please remember to favorite and follow!_

* * *

 _"There is no hunting like the hunting of man, and those who have hunted armed men long enough and liked it, never care for anything else thereafter."_

 _~Ernest Hemingway_

* * *

 **Chapter Twenty-one: Fate and Furies**

Night wind hissed over the compound, picking up anything left scattered on the open tarmac: Advent burger wrappers, discarded refuse, balled-up and ripped XCOM propaganda pictures...they all blew. They crackled as they slipped across the pavement, but otherwise the night was silent.

Almost.

"Did you hear that?" The question was asked in the Advent language, of course, but the meaning was clear enough. The soldier doing the asking half-turned from the compound he was assigned to patrol, and his scope-assisted gaze swept the darkened woods between the facility and New Baltimore. He scowled under his helmet.

"I heard nothing but the wind." His partner seemed less than enthusiastic about the pause. "There's no one out here."

"I could have sworn I heard a footstep."

"Of course you did. We are _walking_." His partner happened to be a stun lancer, and they had a remarkably short way with what they saw as time-wasting stupidity. "You heard your own boot, or mine, crunching a pine cone or grass."

"But I thought..." The soldier lowered his mag-rifle. "I thought I heard something."

"That's because you're an idiot." The stun lancer turned back for his patrol route, ignoring the glaring, hissing soldier in his wake. "Trust me! The Resistance in this region is disorganized and demoralized. They're on the run in every way! There's no one out there who would be stupid enough to-"

The annoyed lancer never finished his sentence. Purple wafted through the air in a searing lance, and the lancer's brain broke nearly in half - and his temples literally caved in - in less time than it took the soldier to freeze. While his brain was still processing and the lancer's mouth was still working on the syllables of _attack_ , his steaming corpse hit the ground.

The soldier should have cried out for reinforcements. In fact, that's exactly what he started to do, but sheer shock paralyzed him for just an instant too long - and when he brought his gun up, he was aiming at the woods, in the direction of the purple waft, which was understandable enough.

Understandable or no, it left him blind to the figure who'd been lying under camouflage netting less than four feet away, and by the time the soldier's training caused him to open his mouth and reach for his com switch, a hand arrested his wrist from behind. He didn't protest.

He was too busy dying as the stiletto knife in the assailant's _other_ hand cut out his throat.

* * *

"Perimeter clear." Shaojie Zhang threw the corpse aside, sheathing his knife without breaking stride. He passed the other body as the rest of his team melted from the darkness, casually claiming his heavy laser and checking diagnostics. "Weapons hot."

"Going hot," Said Tariq acknowledged, filtering past his commander with rifle at the ready. He took a knee by an Advent forklift, sighting in on the yard ahead. "I've got a muton and two MECs."

"Not but a light sweat," Matthew Hawkins pointed out, appearing from the darkness with Said's sister Fatima by his side. The two stragglers joined their fellow, and Zhang was perfectly content to leave the Furies to hold the yard.

"Don't engage unless someone's detected." Zhang glanced to his remaining operatives. "Annette."

"On your left." The Frenchwoman lacked a psi-amp, as did the Furies. But they had innate gifts, and Annette's eyes flickered and glinted with power that Zhang envied. "There's two soldiers covering the doorway. No way around them unless we want to trek through the yard or hit the thermal scanners."

"Not an option." Zhang checked his laser again. "Marcel, take command of the Furies. You're our extraction team and flying reserve."

" _Si_ ," Marcel Garcia growled. He took up position of his own, and Zhang saw the light of cold, professional anger in his eyes. The first veteran of this war, still fighting...

"Let's go." He waved to Annette. "Time's wasting."

"Don't die in there," Matt Hawkins urged. "Hate to have to find someone else who cooks as good of an omelet."

"The secret is searing hatred for human life," Annette assured him, and Zhang pretended he didn't notice the very...personal way they eyed each other, for just a split second. The General didn't approve of things like that, but he feigned ignorance too. Annette and the Furies - not to mention Zhang himself - were simply too good to make no exceptions.

"Come on." He started into the darkness. "We have a job to do."

The walk was quick, which Zhang appreciated. Carapace armor and heavy laser armament - not to mention the thing on his back - were _heavy_ , and he'd been fifty-two when the invasion had started. He was quite spry and quite fit for a man in his seventies, but trekking great distances at a time with full kit was hardly the most pleasant experience he could imagine.

Of course, he'd never complain aloud. He could still outpace Annette and her crew, despite their thirty-year advantage, and if he had his way, he would until the moment he died.

"How do we get past the two?" the woman herself asked, nonchalant as if she were discussing the choice of wine at a Parisian restaurant. "Doesn't look like there's much cover."

Zhang's boots slammed down on permacrete pavement, and he fished out a cigarette. "Go left."

"Why am I always on your left?" But then the Frenchwoman vanished like wind, and Zhang approved of how much she'd improved from the helpless civilian with whom he had first made acquaintance. He flicked the little white stub in his hand from finger to finger. With industry leveled and Advent in firm control of the manufactories, good smokes were a currency of their own, almost more valuable than the elders' credits.

Not that Zhang had any intention of spoiling this perfectly good one - made from real Virginia tobacco, not home-grown crap - with such a utilitarian purpose.

" _Donut!_ " cried one of the two black-clad sentries, as Zhang strode carelessly from the dark. They whirled, leveling rifles at his armored frame. " _Totally not enough!_ "

"Evening, gentlemen." Zhang held up the cigarette. "Got a light?"

" _Donut!_ "

"All right." Zhang spread his hands reasonably. "All the donuts you can eat."

They hesitated. Zhang was no one's civilian, that much was clear. Perhaps the man was being a little vain, but he didn't think it would have been much in doubt even if he'd left his carapace and heavy laser behind. Something about his eyes, his scars, the way he carried himself. Still, he was cooperating, and they clearly hesitated to simply execute him when he might offer information. Zhang rather enjoyed watching the debate in their upturned lips under the faceless helmets.

Because every second they spent wondering was another second for-

 _Pow!_

A hole burned through the fore soldier's chest, and a red beam shot out the other side. Zhang didn't flinch as it boiled air not even three feet shy of his ear, a wave of heat slapping him with an angry ex-lover's refinement.

The good news for the soldier was that the laser blast cauterized his wound immediately. It wouldn't bleed, which was a plus point for his chances of survival, even if he could be forgiven for not realizing it, with how hot and agonizing the searing blast of light had to have been.

The bad news was the shot had literally boiled one of his lungs and burned half his heart out, and no amount of cauterization or medical treatment could make _that_ survivable. He never even managed to scream, simply collapsing in a broken heap.

His companion was...luckier was the wrong word. Sure, he escaped instant death, and he responded with the fortitude of a purpose-bred warrior, turning on his heel and leveling his mag-rifle at the impending doom searing down on him with a smoking, hissing laser rifle held left-handed. Unfortunately, Annette Durand's _right_ hand was up, and she caught the soldier's helmet almost casually, her eyes burning with evil violet that made Zhang smile.

"You... _will obey_." Annette punctuated that with a little shove, and the soldier made a wordless noise of sublime compliance, falling to his knees with rifle forgotten, almost in position to kiss the psi-op's feet.

"You like doing that," Zhang chastised. He held out his hand. "I still want my light."

"What kind of girl do you take me for?" Annette's devilish smile undermined the protest, and she gave the kneeling soldier a little kick. "A light for my friend. Hop to it!"

"Your _commanding officer_ ," Zhang corrected, as the soldier scrambled up and lit his cigarette. He took a long puff. "We're wasting time with your play." He waved, starting for the door. "Have him open it up and see him off."

"Do I have to?" Annette jerked her head at the door. "Go on, then. Unlock the door."

"I insist." Zhang watched the slavishly obedient soldier fish out his pass card and open the secure portal. "Send him off, Annette."

"Fine." She scoffed. "I'll be right behind you."

"See that you are." Zhang took another puff, pulling out his heavy laser. He turned off the safety, firmly stuck the cigarette between his teeth, and then rapped the door to encourage its opening.

 _Pow! Pow-pow-pow-pow!_

He hadn't even consciously registered the priest in the room before he eviscerated her with laser fire. She had two friends, but they'd all been standing around chatting about this or that or another thing rather than alertly preparing for a head-on assault from a professional warrior. Scarlet energy rippled through the air, and a backblast of muggy heat drew sweat from his hairline. It vented from the rotating barrels of prismatic focus lenses on all sides, and Zhang was thankful for the coolant system laid in under his arms and chest, very much like a drag racer's suit.

 _Thud!_ The first Advent soldier didn't even have time to turn before his armor melted and his skin boiled. He collapsed in a wrecked heap of charred meat, and the priest was next. She took a good, heavy blast right in the face, and Zhang lingered on her for a moment longer than he had to, relishing her alien shrieks. The elder puppet didn't die, of course. She drew on her power and collapsed into a dome of protective power that no assault could penetrate, clutching her mortal wounds. Shock would finish her off in minutes, even without assistance.

The second soldier got to his sidearm. He snapped it up two-handed, and Zhang's heavy laser twitched. He took a deep puff, cigarette end glowing gold and red, as scarlet death rippled and evaporated the soldier's vital organs. The second thud was louder than the first, and no less final.

Zhang lowered his gun, eyeing his handiwork...and he didn't flinch at all when Annette shot her adoring servant in the back of the head.

"Communications should be that way." The Frenchwoman swept in, a spring in her step. Zhang followed a bit more sedately, venting from the heat sink on his cannon until the heat gauge fell out of the red zone.

"Shut them down."

"Not my first drop, Chilong." Annette proved it, because she shot the priest the instant her shield dissipated, without even glancing her way. The thing collapsed, orange steam hissing from her body as her muscles contracted and thrashed without any higher-level agency.

"I'll hit the data archive." Zhang activated his comm. "Alecto?"

" _All's quiet on the Western Front_ ," said Hawkins. " _Fatima and Said saw something on the right. They're pushing in under silence_."

"Hopefully it's nothing." Zhang reached the data banks, and while Annette set to on the communications equipment, he began typing on the holokeyboard.

 _Warlock_ , he typed. The former Triad operative pulled out his datapad while the search ran, and he quickly jacked in.

"Anything?" Annette appeared over his shoulder, rifle in hand. Zhang didn't spare her a glance.

"Comms better be down."

"Down, with the casual chatter program installed. Not even their commander will realize his people are an AI with a voice modulator." Annette glanced at a security cam. "Looks like the fellow's in here, actually. One level up and down the hall."

"That's the next stop." Zhang didn't much care for the information he was digesting, but it was in fact information. He hit the download key. "That's one."

"And Beta?"

"And Beta." He hit a few more keys, pausing when he came across a camera file. "That's her."

"As big and mean as I remember," Annette mused. "Pity running away hasn't put her off her feed."

"Don't you have to make stupid comments somewhere else?" Zhang initiated that data transfer too, shifting information from Subject Beta's directory onto his pad.

"Not until four." Annette hefted her rifle. "Shall I see to the _commandant_?"

"You remember the rules?"

" _Oui, papa_." Annette backed for the stairs, smirking. Zhang eyed her.

"Do you _have_ it?"

"Do any of us _ever_ ship out without one?" She casually let her rifle hang from its shoulder strap, and she reached to her hip. Not the pistol at her _right_ hip, or the medkits spaced along her belt, but for the _other_ holster on her left. Technically, it was a _thigh_ holster, even if just barely. Annette's fingers closed around the grip, and she casually drew her...alternative sidearm. "See?"

"Just make sure he's disoriented before you taze him." Zhang returned to data management.

"I've been around the block on this before." Then the medic vanished, and Zhang quietly fumed at how slow his data connection was, impatiently puffing on his cigarette. That it was good smoke did nothing to offset his annoyance.

"Come _on_ ," he growled, watching the progress bar stall. "You _have_ a connection. There is _nothing_ wrong with it. _Work_ , damn you."

If a man's glare could intimidate technology into submission, Zhang's certainly would have. It still took an extra few minutes, and thus most of his cigarette, for the data to finally process.

" _Chilong_?"

"Here." He removed his datapad, checking to be sure the information on the Warlock and Subject Beta had transferred appropriately. "Tisiphone?"

" _We might have a problem_." Fatima Tariq didn't sound unduly worried, which by Zhang's reckoning had more to do with her stoic personality than the odds arrayed against her. " _There's some kind of Advent general down here, doing an inspection tour._ "

"A... _general_?" Zhang paused to stroke his gray goatee. "How heavy is the guard force?"

" _Sir_ ," Said Tariq chimed in, " _I hope you're not thinking what I'm afraid you are. They're almost between us and extraction, and he's covered by a sizeable Advent detail. Close to twenty of them_."

"Only twenty?" Zhang's lip curled. "He must not be very vital to be so limply guarded. Keep them under observation. I'll round up the others."

" _Do you still want me to take care of Idiot Number One_?" Annette asked, and Zhang wasn't surprised she'd been listening in. Annoyed, but not surprised. Military discipline had never set in this girl's spine that well.

"Yes, Annette. Bring him. We learn more from two than one."

She didn't answer. Well, not with words. Zhang would have been worried if he hadn't heard her snickering cheerfully under her breath: as it stood, he was downright terrified.

"You and the Doctor, Durand," he muttered, once he was sure his com was off. "Kindred spirits. Something in the water on that end of Europe, I wonder?"

* * *

"Six soldiers." Fatima Tariq chewed her lower lip for a moment. "One priest. Two lancers. And a shieldbearer."

"In their _lead_ unit," her brother noted, and Fatima's lips twitched.

"Yes. In their _lead_ unit." She noted the gilded general's position at the center of the enemy encampment. "I count three units in the vicinity. Plus the sectoids and vipers at the other end of the yard."

"They'll join in," Said noted, a little glumly. "We'll be outnumbered by...what? Twenty, twenty-five? Versus six."

"Yeah. Hardly fair." Fatima's grin broadened. Said groaned.

"Don't say it. Don't you say it-"

"I'll have to shoot-"

"I said don't!" Said glared. "You're altogether too frustrating, woman."

"This is why you don't have a girlfriend." Fatima reset the spread on her scatter, then gently eased up. "Marcel!"

" _Si_?" the Argentinean heavy appeared at her side, and Fatima's head twitched.

"Come on. You and I move to the left side, shake 'em up. Alecto and Megaera hold here and light the candles, while Zhang and Annette make it Christmas from the facility roof."

"I hope you know what you're talking about," Marcel grunted, "because I haven't got a fucking clue."

"And this is why _you_ don't have a girlfriend," Fatima added cheerfully, before waving him on. "Come on. Shake and bake!"

"Shake and..." Marcel trailed off, but he managed an aggrieved sigh that made Fatima grin.

They vanished into the darkness.

* * *

"Zhang." Annette nodded as the old man stormed up from the darkness below, datapad in hand, cannon at the ready. He eyed her for a long moment.

"The package?"

"Oh, he's here." Annette kicked the senseless, sparking body of the Advent base commander. "I never get tired of the looks on their faces when they get juiced." She beamed. "Ride the lightning!"

"A proper special operative, you are." Zhang approached the stairs to the roof. "Bring him up. We take down the general and we extract the way we came. Charges are already set."

" _Magnifique!_ " Annette seized her cargo and hurried in the heavy's wake, giddy as she thought of the explosion setting this place off would produce.

It was funny. The old Annette Durand, the twenty-three year old aspiring cellist who loved swimming and tabletop gaming, would never have relished the idea of electrocuting anyone, no matter how foul, or blowing up _anything_ in real life.

But the forty-three year old Annette Durand who hadn't played a cello since That Night had a score to settle, only made deeper, bloodier, and far more pressing with the time that had passed.

"Roof clear," Zhang announced, and Annette dragged the commander up onto it. She checked her special sidearm, then took a knee on the roof's edge, covering behind the low railing.

"Eyes on the enemy," she alerted her team. "I've got a shot on the priest."

" _Left lancer_ ," Hawkins muttered, and she could easily envision his frown of concentration.

" _Marcel's primed on the big boom_ ," Fatima chimed in. " _I've got the right lancer_."

"That leaves us, Megaera." Zhang took another puff on his cigarette. "We're on lawn mowing duty."

" _I'll take left side._ _Good field of fire_."

"Roger that. Weapons free, psionics at your own discretion." Zhang threw the cigarette on the roof, and his heel came down with a _crunch_. "On my mark."

Annette waited. She knew in the back of her mind that none of the soldiers down there had been involved in That Night, or the nights the Tariqs and Hawkins remembered.

She also didn't care. She'd gotten what vengeance she could in the Alps, with Zhang and Marcel and the others. Her lips thinned at the thought of them: Malin Larsen, XCOM's greatest soldier, hadn't deserved to die choking on a chryssalid egg in Switzerland. Nor the six others that had escaped the base in bit pieces with her, Zhang, or Marcel. But one by one, by plasma or by bomb or by mag-fire or worse...they'd fallen.

Leaving Annette and the Furies behind to avenge them.

"Mark."

Annette fired. She had the _distinct_ pleasure of seeing her energy beam burn right through the priest's helmet, melting its armor to slag, and punch through skin and skull plate to boil the thing's brain. It never even managed to scream, simply collapsing in a wrecked heap with gray-tinted smoke wafting from the hole over its left eye.

And Annette's was far from the only shot. Fatima's scatter roared, and Said's rifle and Zhang's cannon filled the night with _pows_ and red searing beams of light. Hawkins' sniper rifle killed its target with one shot, and for four shrieking seconds, Advent had no idea what hit them. Annette managed to get a second shot off before they started to recover, and it blew a soldier's leg off at the knee. He lived long enough to be agonized, but Zhang's fire put him down after only a few seconds.

For all of that, Advent's soldiers were neither weak nor fool. They reacted swiftly, scrambling for cover and taking aim at the sources of the assault. The wing units moved in, seizing positions behind trucks and tanks in the killing zone, spotting targets while their lancers injected themselves with stimulants and steroids, preparing to make their inhuman runs into the face of impossible odds.

But in the end, they were creatures of habit. And the mistake they made was in _clustering_.

"Yes!" Annette cried, eyes wild and teeth bared as Marcel Garcia's Dragon rocket ripped out from the darkness, borne on a trail of fire as it lanced right into the vehicle depot and the entrenched Advent infantry. It slammed into a munitions truck dead-on, with the Argentinean heavy's characteristic havoc-making aim, and the resulting fireball-

 _Boom!_

Annette's rifle went off. She fired into the searing whirling of smoke and flame, roasting the shell-shocked survivors. Her companions fired as well, and red bolts tore down the wounded on all sides. Zhang's fire slacked, and Annette picked her own up to compensate, watching as Marcel tossed an alien-model grenade into the killing field. The screams were music to a vengeful Frenchwoman's ears, and she laughed as the _second_ munitions truck, ignited by the blast from the first, went off and sprayed shrapnel into the Advent defenders.

There was no chance of recovery. The general himself couldn't have rallied these soldiers, and in all likelihood he was still beyond them, staring in horror at the conflagration that had erupted in less than thirty seconds.

Or, he _was_ , until Zhang's rocket shot out and obliterated his own guard.

"Well," Annette mused, as the flames lit up the state of Maryland and the pyre blocked out the moon, while the earth shook and almost a hundred Advent voices shrieked in agony and terror, "it's possible they've figured out we're here."

" _Unlikely_ ," Hawkins chimed in, before shooting another one from two thousand yards' distance.

" _The general survived the blast_ ," Fatima notified the team. " _He looks dazed and hurt. Two guards left standing_." _Pow!_ " _One_."

"Finish them and take him," Zhang ordered. "Alive."

"Alive." Annette reached down to touch the grip of her Arc Thrower. "A nice present for the Doctor. Vahlen _does_ go through them, doesn't she?"

* * *

 **Author's Note 21: And Now For Someone Completely Different**

Soldiers the caliber of Annette, Zhang, the Furies, the Argentinean Heavy, and any of XCOM's veterans wouldn't just go home and pop a brew when XCOM surrendered. I'm surprised there aren't any vets in XCOM 2 - though, from a gameplay perspective, it makes sense. Having XCOM start with even a few elite soldiers from the get go would be a tad unbalanced. Yes, I know the Resistance Warrior pack gives you a so-called veteran at the start(I have it). But that's all cosmetic, and as nice as that is, for gameplay purposes that soldier is as green as anyone else except Jane Kelly.

The point is, I would think most survivors from XCOM would wind up congregating together. Bradford, in this verse, tied in with the Shens and wound up collecting a few veterans from the War, who helped in the acquisition of _Avenger_. So too, as established by canon, did Vahlen draw at least _some_ of her techs along with her to keep up her mad scientist routine. It's not illogical to think she has to have had some form of security force, and once that leap's been made, isn't it _just_ logical to think they would have been veterans of the War? Like, say, Zhang, Annette, and the Furies?

This is CH21, and there are only 25 chapters in Season One. I know I haven't clarified what the "Seasons" are, but I think it's relatively simple: undertaking the novelization of such a game as this is a Herculean task, and I really do have a lot of other work to do writing-wise in my life. So I've subdivided the game into four "Seasons"(I might add a fifth, depending on how 3 and 4 go when we get there) of ~25 chapters each, to make it more manageable. I love this story, but I do look forward to knocking Season One out so I can take a break and work on something with a less grueling update schedule for a little bit. Of course the flip side of that is that more professional work means more serious editing and quality control, which is... _fun_.

Until next time, _Vigilo Confido_.


	22. Storm Winds

_Please remember to favorite and follow!_

* * *

 _"We must free ourselves of the hope that the sea will ever rest. We must learn to sail in high winds."_

 _~Aristotle Onassis_

* * *

 **Chapter Twenty-two: Storm Winds**

"That's it. Easy does it."

"I'm not made of glass, you know." But Julie did take it easy, as she got her feet under her. The medical orderly didn't offer more unsolicited advice, but she did hold Julie's arm quite tightly, and if that was the difference between standing and falling, the psi-op supposed she'd deal with it.

"It hurts," she hissed, as her side protested.

"How badly?"

"It...not too badly." Julie coughed into her free elbow. "It just hurts. But I think I can deal with it."

"Miss Richardson, I'm not signing off on putting you back on the combat roster this soon after you nearly died."

"I'm fine!" Julie released her arm, and ground her teeth together as she forced herself to stand unaided. "See? Just...just fine."

"Right." She seemed quite unimpressed. "I'll sign off on putting you back in the psi-lab, if someone keeps a close watch on you. But not active-duty, not for another week."

"Come on-"

"No arguments." The orderly glared. "You've nearly died two ops in a row. You can at least take a week to rest."

"I..." Julie relented, just a bit. "Well, I suppose I would enjoy some peace and calm."

"That's the spirit," her minder said, a lot more approvingly. "In fact-"

"Hello?"

"Sylvie?" Julie turned, eyeing the ravenette as she picked her way through the medbay. "What are you doing here?"

"I heard you were shot, and they wouldn't let me in until now," Sylvie answered.

"For good reason," the orderly muttered, but it was low enough for Julie to pretend she hadn't heard.

"I just...came to see you," Sylvie finished, eyes lowered. "Are you all right?"

"I'm fine." Julie blinked slowly. "I'm absolutely fine."

Quiet, for a long moment.

"I'll just pop out and fetch you both some lunch," the orderly announced. "It's about that time."

" _Merci,_ but I just came from-"

"You may have, Paris, but my patient hasn't eaten." And off she went with a spring in her step, and Julie frowned at her back the whole way to the door.

"I," Sylvie muttered irritably, "am from _Nice_."

"I..." Julie didn't suppose there was much she could say about that, so instead she sank to a seat with a little groan. "Well-"

"Let me help you!" Sylvie caught her arm just too late, and she sighed. "You shouldn't just...stress your injury like that!"

"I'm _not_ porcelain," Julie objected, a tad stubbornly. "My god, you sound like my aunt when I would skin my knee as a kid. Old fussbudget. You could tell she was a nurse!"

"I'm sorry! I didn't mean to offend-"

"It's all right!" Julie cut her off before her wide-eyed worrisome whirlwind could get to full steam. "It's really all right. They've just been handling me with kid gloves around here, that's all." She gave her friend a reassuring smile. "I'm itching to get back on the duty roster."

"You were shot twice on two separate ops," Sylvie objected.

"I noticed." Julie was proud of how dry that came out. "But I'm the only psi-op we have. I _have_ to do my part for the war. I'm the only one who can do...what I can do."

"...well..."

Julie frowned. She tilted her head to the side, eyeing Sylvie very speculatively for a minute.

"You're not _just_ here to check in on a friend, are you?"

"I...of course I'm here to check in on you," she demurred. "I...very much care for you. You are one of my few friends on the ship."

"...and?"

"...and," she agreed, in a small voice. "Hiroshi and his team have scheduled me for Awakening starting tomorrow."

"You Volunteered?" Julie actually whooped, loud enough the Frenchwoman flinched. "That's awesome!"

"I hope so." Worry shone in her eyes. "He warned me my hair would go white."

"Temporarily." Julie waved dismissively. "My roots are already reddening back up, see?" She patted her hair, and the dulling dye she needed to touch up. "Just make sure to get some black dye - or try a new color! It's the perfect opportunity to screw around without worrying about bleach." She dimmed, just a bit. "The eyes are permanent, though."

"I like purple eyes," Sylvie mumbled. "I don't think that would bother me at all. They are gorgeous."

"Are they?" Julie chewed on the idea for a minute. "Well, I suppose you've said as much before. And Lord knows it's better than red or white!"

"I'm nervous," Sylvie admitted. "I've heard all the rumors."

"I mean, I suppose the Elders would do horrible things to anyone with psi-abilities," Julie admitted. "But I never really believed all the rumors about what they do at those so-called _black sites_. I mean, I suppose the sites have to exist, but they're probably prison camps. Not experimentation centers or anything. It doesn't make sense from the Elders' perspective."

"Unless there is something you do not know," Sylvie pointed out, and Julie had to grant that.

"But," she continued, resolutely ignoring the thought, "being a psi-op means you have the ability to protect yourself far better. No one's _likely_ to take you in the first place. And you still get a gun! Even though you probably won't use it, not like you will your amp." She smiled. "We'll get to see a lot more of each other in the psi-lab."

"I would like that," Sylvie agreed. "Still...I can't help worrying."

"Come on." Julie tossed her head. "Sit down. I've done Awakening before, remember? Let me assuage your fears."

"That's a big word." But she clearly understood what it meant, because she settled at the redhead's side. "Does it hurt? Awakening."

"Well..."

They talked. They talked for a good long time, going over Awakening, life in the psi-cubicles, training, and any other detail the new Volunteer was curious about. The orderly came and went, leaving lunch in her wake and sauntering out with the oddest smile.

The whole time, Julie went out of her way to avoid drawing Sylvie's attention to the fact that she'd never taken her hand off the redhead's arm.

* * *

"Sharpshooter, huh?" Jane Kelly reached out and gave Cameron Rogers a good shove on the shoulder. "Who'd have guessed?"

"Not me." Cameron examined his sniper rifle for a long minute, before gently sighting in. "Wow, this thing gives a good view."

"That's why it's called a sniper rifle," David offered helpfully. He glanced downrange, crossing his arms. "Let's see what you can do with it."

"Well..." Cameron steadied his stance, and Jane watched him locate the sniper target hanging in the far reaches of the cargo bay. For a moment, the newly-minted squaddie judged his shot. Then-

 _Crack!_

"Nice!" Aileen cried, as the target visibly jumped. "There may be hope for you yet, Maple Syrup."

"That nickname is never going to catch on," Cameron muttered. Jane and Aileen traded a glance, and the Irishwomen's eyes glowed with matching fervor to invalidate his objection.

"And then there's this." Jane plucked the smaller weapon up from its perch. "It looks like it comes out of a pirate movie. _Arr, avast ye mutons_ -"

"Well, it's quite accurate!" Cameron set his rifle aside and snagged the Shadowkeeper left-handed. "I know they're coming out with magnetic sidearms, but it shouldn't be long until Chief Shen figures out how to upgrade this thing."

"Sure. That's what you say." Aileen was gracious enough to let Cameron get off a few shots with the pistol at that point, not that she looked terribly impressed. Jane could have made a lot of comments herself: the reloading process was archaic and glacial, the weapon appeared to spray _grape shot_ , and it looked like its recoil was a donkey-kick from hell.

She could have commented, but she was too busy coughing because it produced acrid-tasting smoke in _gouts_.

"Jesus!" David waved it away from his face, backing up to get away from the white clouds. "That _stinks!_ "

"It's a _gun_ ," Cameron snapped. "A flintlock! Of course it does!"

"I'll stick to my crossbow, thanks." Aileen turned up her quivering nose. " _Mine_ is smokeless!"

"Yeah, and yours could have been designed in 1100 AD-"

"You've had your go." Jane, nose pinched with one hand, poked the irascible Canadian with her other. "Let the _ladies_ have a turn, why don't you?" She scoffed. "Some gentleman."

"I'm _not_ a gentleman." Cameron left it at that, though, and he backed away from the range, still fondling his flintlock.

"That's obvious, honey." Aileen brushed past him with a chipper grin and perky stride, and in a moment, she'd located her new toy. "I mean, I _want_ to keep the Bolt Caster-"

"It'll have just as much stopping power and more rounds in the mag," Jane reminded her, reaching out to pat the device's stock. "You have to recognize the advantages that-"

"Yes, I recognize them." Aileen turned downrange with a sigh. "I just like the Bolt Caster."

"Well, poor you: having to choose between two fancy upgraded guns." David shook his head, leaning on the far wall with arms crossed. "All I've got is my cannon."

"You hear that, Aileen?" Jane eyed David speculatively. "He says he's got a _cannon_."

"Aren't you in rare spirits?" the other Irishwoman wondered. "Something in your water this morning, dear?"

"That's _lieutenant dear_ ," Jane corrected, reaching up to touch her pin. "Remember: don't tell Commander Gallant to screw himself, or you might...get _promoted_."

"Somehow, I doubt it's as simple as you make it sound." David tossed his head. "Jane, you're damn lucky you walked out of there without being transferred to stocking duty. Or worse, _engineering_."

"I know." Jane sobered. "I know, David! By rights, I should be in a haven in Swaziland by now. You don't have to rub it in."

"But I like being a pain in your arse," David objected. "It's fun to piss you off."

"Go ahead and keep doing it, then. Sooner or later, you'll regret it!"

"Or _will_ he?" Cameron wondered. Aileen snickered.

"Probably for all of two seconds, until Jane finds a whip-"

"Shut up and shoot!" Jane shoved her friend, while David coughed and glowered at Cameron. "You two-"

"It's _you_ two," Aileen objected. "I'm sensing a bond between you: something different from professional respect-"

"Shoot the targets, woman!" Jane leaned down and pulled _her_ upgrade from its resting place. She worked the pump that she still wasn't entirely sure why what was essentially a handheld railgun required. "Or _you'll_ be the one that regrets it."

"Or _will_ I?" Aileen wondered, and Jane shoved her again.

"Yes, you _will_ ," she promised. The Ranger lifted her shard gun, trying not to grin. "After all, mine's bigger than yours...if not as big as David's _cannon_."

* * *

Edward Gallant snorted. He also coughed, clutching his chest as the sudden bout of snickering went poorly with his half-drink.

"Oh, _lord_." He watched the feed of the group in the range for another moment, until Quinn started shooting, her companions all chortling and faux-flirting with each other, competing for who could get the most raucous approval. "Lord have mercy. _Morale_."

It wasn't guns and it wasn't grenades, but Gallant _had_ gone to West Point, even if he was the worst soldier to ever stumble out its gates and get shellacked in the real world. All the guns, grenades, and even tanks and planes in the world were useless without a force that was fit and willing to _use_ them, and the inverse applied just as well. Even a rag-tang band of misfits and rebels with limited supplies could do damage that far exceeded its meager status...if properly energized and competently led.

And after Sophie Weber's military funeral three days before, and at the cap of this long string of questionably successful combat actions...well, Gallant saw the signs of hard resiliency in his organization. Hammered, beaten, flung left and right, sure...but they weren't _destroyed_.

And Gallant was proud of that. Of _them_.

 _Beep! Beep!_

"Come on." Gallant swiveled his chair, putting the feed on mute. He steeped his fingers, waiting as the door hissed open. "Doctor. Chief."

"Commander." Tygan was the first inside, and then Lily Shen. In their wake came Bradford, who looked somewhat less skeptical than he had after Jane had skulked disbelievingly from Gallant's office. In fact, he'd been a bit more than _skeptical_ of Gallant's decision, and fairly emphatic about it.

 _Which_ , Gallant thought dryly, _just makes it all the sweeter that events are bearing out in my favor, doesn't it?_

Promoting Kelly had been the right decision. At the time, Gallant had hoped that leveling the playing field between them - and turning her obvious love and care for her squadmates into an asset on _his_ side - would encourage her to become the field leader he required, and the jury was still out on that much. But even if it changed nothing on the battlefield, he'd won her _respect_ , at least tentatively, with his willingness to put faith in her.

But mostly, Edward Gallant had done it because, upon mature consideration of the woman who'd told her commanding officer off in a pitched firefight and then unashamedly spoke her mind to him when called for disciplining, he'd realized she reminded him quite forcefully of another promising young soldier. Favoritism was to be avoided at all costs, but Gallant knew he would have done exactly what she had under the same circumstances. They were cut from the same cloth, only Kelly might be able to avoid the mistakes Gallant had made in his meteoric rise and equally meteoric plunge. _If_ someone sat her down, put faith in her, and kept a hand on the tiller to keep her from wandering into the bushes too often.

Now Gallant just had to keep Kelly from figuring out exactly how convenient for their command relationship his little "reaction" had been...or that his _real_ medication was _not_ kept in a plastic container on his desk.

 _I'm a slimy, conniving bastard_ , he thought, rather cheerfully. _She has no clue what my symptoms are supposed to look like._

"Well, now that the Group of Four has convened..." Somehow, Gallant wasn't surprised that Shen and Tygan only stared blankly. Bradford sighed.

"They're hopeless, sir. And I'd appreciate not being compared to that band of military geniuses." He pulled out a seat across Gallant's desk. "Shen?"

"John, you don't have to-"

"Nonsense." Bradford didn't move an inch until Shen had sighed, rolled her eyes, and taken a seat.

"So." Gallant leaned back in his chair, picking up that pen the nasty prankster had left for him and rolling it between his hands. He glanced about his command crew. "Let's start with you, Doctor Tygan."

"Commander." The scientist inclined his scarred head. "I have finished development work on an interface - we're calling it the _Skulljack_ \- that I believe will allow our soldiers to connect with Advent officers' neural chips."

"Hot dog," Gallant muttered. "Shen?"

"I can build it, Commander," she assured him. "It's a bit heavy and unwieldy, and unfortunately it has to be used at close range-"

" _Close range_?" Bradford interrupted. He snorted. "Don't worry. That won't be a problem, Shen."

"Good." Gallant nodded slowly. "That's the next piece of the puzzle...if we can find an Advent officer." He reached up to the back of his head, only realizing he was doing it when his fingers hit buzz-cut hair. "I have to admit, I'm curious about that...thing."

"We'll get answers," Tygan promised. "And as I'm sure you've seen, we've produced enough magnetic rifles and shard cannons to outfit our field forces, and I am in the process of upgrading our swords and axes with electrical stun elements. I should have the conversion process complete within the week."

"Better." Gallant cracked a thin smile. "Armor?"

"That is taking some time, as we lack a large stockpile of Advent alloys," Tygan admitted. "I doubt we'll make much progress until we recover a sizeable sample of the material."

"Understood." That tasted sour in Gallant's heart. "I guess our troops will have to keep praying for a little longer." He glanced to Shen. "Anything in particular on your end?"

"Apart from me wondering how on Earth we're going to procure the materials to upgrade the psi-lab to have a second training cell?" Shen's tone could strip paint. "It's not going to be easy, sir. And we're going to have to _power_ the damn thing when we're done, which will be its own saga."

Gallant grunted. "That's unfortunate. However, I'm still happier to be worrying about how we can manage to train two psi-ops at once rather than fretting over only having one."

"My, sir," Bradford observed. "You _are_ in a _bright-side_ sort of mood today, aren't you?" He eyed Gallant thoughtfully. "That happy over the Kelly situation, are you?"

"Morale's up. And a commander's morale is directly connected to that of his troops - if they're flagging, I can pick them up by being stoic." Gallant shrugged, dutifully not showing how self-conscious he was at that exact moment. "Just stands to reason that it flows the other way too."

"Right." Bradford did at least have the courtesy to leave it at that, and Gallant coughed into his elbow in what was certainly a very unsuspicious way that alleviated all of his subordinates' concerns in an instant.

"Let's move to the business of the hour," he encouraged, and something tightened in his gut when what air of cheer had been in the room faded, flowing out the vents as Shen and Tygan's eyes hardened. "Sergeant Dragunova's data."

"Yes." Shen leaned her elbows on the desk. "I examined the information she pulled from the Advent network in India, and cross-referenced it with the information Shadow Man provided in his transmission."

"And?" Gallant reached for his cane more out of habit than anything else. "Black site?"

"Black site," Shen agreed. "Sir, the vast majority of the prison's occupants were moved by rail to a facility in the Ural Mountains, well off the Advent grid."

"Do we have a location?"

"Yes, sir. But..." It was Tygan now, and Gallant frowned while he fished in his coat for his datapad. "The Ural facility seems to have been a staging area, if you will. A sort of...processing center, to weed out certain individuals and send them further on."

"To where? And what about the others?" Gallant steeped his fingers, pen still lodged between them.

"The rejects are disseminated back to Advent prisons in need of labor," Bradford supplied. "Spread around the globe. I don't know what the screening facility is looking for, but whoever qualifies gets moved to another facility."

"Where is it?" Gallant repeated. Tygan finally got his datapad out, and he hit a few buttons.

"Here, Commander." He passed the device over, and Gallant took it gingerly.

"...Switzerland," he muttered. "Why is it always Switzerland?"

"The Alps, in particular," Shen pointed out. "High in the mountains, well away from human population centers. It's off-the-grid, and likely heavily fortified as well. This..." She hesitated. "Well, sir, it matches what Shadow Man had to say about missing civilians."

"So. We found our black site." Gallant eyed the map coordinates, feeling a hungry twinge deep in his belly. "What else do we know?"

Silence. He saw Shen, Tygan, and Bradford trading glances.

"Sir...we have no intel," Bradford finally muttered. "It's...probably very heavily guarded. Not just Advent, but aliens - and not their weaker units at that. I'd expect mutons and heavy gun emplacements."

Gallant laid the pad down. He gave each of his senior staff a searching glance, before drawing a breath.

"Could we find an officer there, do you think?"

"At least one who could suit our purposes," Tygan agreed warily. "But, Commander-"

"We'll send a team. We deploy the passive jammers, kit them in full stealth, and drop under cover of darkness. They slip past the perimeter, get in, find out what the hell's going on, get out." Gallant let that breath out. "We have no choice but to take a look. This is the mission. This is the war."

"Sir, we can't," Shen objected. "That facility will probably be protected by state-of-the-art Advent defenses. We would need someone with an insider's perspective on how Advent arranges sensors and traps, and we don't-"

"We do." Gallant's lips twitched. "We have a hard-bitten Reaper from the Russian Steppe, Chief, _and_ we have an ex-Advent captain with a score to settle and a feisty bullpup."

"...Dragunova and Mox." Bradford turned that idea over in his head. "They might have a chance. But two's not enough. If their cover _is_ blown, they'll need someone shadowing them, packing heavy firepower."

Gallant sighed through his teeth. "Pity Shen's robot stands out like a sore thumb."

"Actually, sir..." That made him snap his wide-eyed gaze to her, and the engineer grinned. "I've been working on that, and I actually developed an active-camouflage element for the BIT. I can't make Junior invisible, but I can make him _hard_ to spot, especially after dark. And a sound dampener would be an easy addition for his giant footsteps."

"...are you _serious_?" Gallant demanded. "You can make him a giant mechanical _ninja_?"

"Not quite," Shen demurred, with a small chuckle, "but I can keep him in the shadows if smaller team members take point."

"Send in the robot, then," Gallant ordered. "And David White, with the grenades. And..." He hesitated now more than ever. "Well..."

"No. _No_." Bradford shook his head. "Sir, she's been _shot_ two ops in a row-"

"We need her," Gallant insisted.

"Sir, she's still in medbay," Bradford protested. " _Sir_ -"

"She's the only psi-op we've got."

"Sir, Sylvie Richard Volunteered while Julie was deployed with Dragunova-"

"I'm aware of that!" Gallant snapped, and Bradford broke down. "Damn it, John, Richard's never fired a shot in action in her life, and she hasn't been Awakened or even held an amp! She's an untrained, un-Awakened load for a combat team, and you know it, however brave she might be." Gallant shook his head. "No, John. I'm deploying her."

"Sir...you can't keep burning Julie at both ends," Tygan objected quietly. Gallant glared at him, and he raised his hands. "I am not a military man, and I readily leave military decisions to those best qualified to make them. But I am in charge of the medical team in addition to my other duties, and there is only so much any soldier can take, be she ever so brave, be she ever so resilient...or ever so armed with powers ever so supernatural."

"I'm aware," Gallant assured him, voice low. "But Julie's our edge and our advantage, and combined with Junior, White, Mox, and Outrider, it's possible she'll be _enough_ of an edge."

"...you have to give her three days," Bradford relented. "Just to heal up."

"She can have thirty-six hours. That's how long it would take for us to pack up our operations here in Asia, plot a course, fly to Italy, and get Firebrand briefed, supplied, and ready for deployment." Gallant leaned back. "We're going in, and we're going hot. Mark those five for the op, and put them under _Lieutenant_ Kelly's command." Gallant tried to conceal his worrying nerves with a ferocious wolf's grin. "It's time we take the fight to _them_. For Sweden."

* * *

The wet drops slipped down over Evangeline Moreau's face in ragged sequence. They fell from her chin when they passed her lips, and she heard the little _plink_ noises they made upon impact with the metal floor, if they didn't hit her bare, dirtied, scabbed feet first.

They weren't teardrops. They were drops of _sweat_.

Evangeline had never been a very athletically driven sort of woman. She'd lived in Paris, for God's sake - sure, the gym had been a part of her life, but only a small part. She'd been concerned with her post-partum belly and her bikini photos, and she'd been no fonder of getting all sweaty and messy for a minor gain at best than anyone else with the brain the Elders gave them.

But this wasn't Paris, and the Evangeline of black site confinement was not the Evangeline of a month before. A year before? It didn't matter. She'd lost all track of time, but it didn't matter.

She was dirty, with no way to clean herself. Occasionally, she would wake from sleep to the worst of the mess cleaned from her cell, but otherwise she had to take care of her needs in a corner, and live in the stench. She was hungry, subsisting off of some sort of paste that dripped from a spigot overhead but which she somehow knew was food, as if the idea had been psionically implanted in the back of her mind.

She was fairly certain that was exactly what had happened.

But none of it mattered. None of it, because cold, icy determination had suffused everything in her life.

 _I'm not going to die. I'm going to_ survive _,_ she swore once again, as her body burned from the trials she forced it to endure. _For Nathan_.

She didn't know if Charlotte was in this facility with her. Was her friend one cell over, despairing? Two cells over, doing the same thing? Push-ups, knee lifts, crunches, _hand-stands_ as best she could? Or was she not even in the same facility? Country? _Continent_? Evangeline didn't know, and she bleakly wondered if she would ever see her best friend again. She doubted it, but she had to hope and had to try, and if Charlotte was here, she had to at least plan on attempting to rescue her when the moment came.

And a moment would come. Sooner or later, a moment _would_ come, and Evangeline would manage to escape. She had too much to live for not to.

So there were no more tears. Just sweat, just cold determination, and just searing unwillingness to give up and yield. She worked her body until she could work no more, then slept as well as she could naked and in the cold, then awoke to do it again. When she could take no more of the rigorous schedule, she worked her brain, trying to recall all the myriad details of the languages she'd learned as a child, or history or geography, just as if she were teaching Nathan.

And she did her best to keep track of how many times she slept. Assuming she'd kept something roughly like a regular schedule since she was put in here, she guessed it had been close to three weeks since her arrival. She still had no idea how long of an interval there had been between her kidnapping and being sorted into this hell, but at least it was something.

It was roughly the twenty-sixth day - or, at least, the twenty-sixth time she'd slept - when it happened.

"What?" Evangeline woke suddenly, as the world... _groaned_ around her. It hummed and it vibrated, and she stumbled to her feet, leaning on the wall. It almost felt like she was... _moving_...

Something hissed. It was loud in the stillness, and Evangeline yelped in spite of herself. Her heart thundered, and she waited as machinery worked in the frigid air. She shivered. It certainly _looked_ as though she was moving, though without her glasses she couldn't tell for sure.

It stopped. It stopped in a flash, and Evangeline's heartbeat was the only noise. Gently, she pushed off the wall, trying to peer through the barrier in front of her to get a little better view. Glass it was, but hazy, fuzzy glass, and she wiped at it as best she could, trying to figure out what had changed. She could see _shapes_ in the green glow all around...other glass cells, she realized after a moment, with darkened shapes in them that must have been people like her. She counted a dozen in her row, and there must have been more over and below her too.

There were others, outside the cells. They were below her by a little, wearing black and black alone, clustered around little control panels...

No. No, there was one in red, and Evangeline's eyes fixed on him. She could see nothing but his scarlet uniform, but something about his position screamed _authority_ \- and Evangeline halfheartedly raised her hands, hoping for his attention.

 _Maybe...maybe they're letting us out..._

 _Hiss!_

"What the-" Evangeline broke off as something _burst_ open at the top of the cell. She yelped as green liquid fell from above in three places, inundating the metal floor and coursing up to her toes in a freezing tide.

"Wait!" she cried, as the liquid rose past her ankles almost in a flash. It stung, too, and her eyes went wide. "Wait! Please!"

Past her knees. Evangeline tried to grab onto the ceiling, but it was two feet too high for her. She beat at the glass, screaming as the liquid rose, and rose, and rose past her thighs and up to her hips, stinging at her flesh like a thousand hornets as it coursed over her stomach and up, up higher and higher...

The freezing, stinging wave reached her shoulders, and Evangeline's mouth went dry. She clawed at the glass, praying and gasping for breath as the tide lifted her up, up toward the metal ceiling...

 _Henri_ , she thought desperately. _Nathan! My son!_

Then there was only one more gulp of air left, and the chemical solution inundated her completely.

Evangeline Moreau managed to hold her breath for three minutes, even as the solution ate away at her skin and stung her eyes and ears, ripping into her flesh like the stripping acid it was.

Standard black site procedure left the subjects in chemical treat for forty-eight hours.

* * *

 **Author's Note 22: Personnel Management**

My standard practice with psi-troopers is to have two. One trains in the lab and goes on every mission that comes up, until (s)he is injured or otherwise unable to continue training for a while. The second one seamlessly slots into the now-empty training cell, and remains training and taking missions until it's his/her turn to be wounded and taken to medbay. By this point, #1 is usually back in service. Rinse/repeat.

The Skulljack just gets more and more painful to think about the more you make the mistake of thinking about it.

I think the magnetic weapons tier is aesthetically my favorite of them all, gun-wise. The energy weapons turn me off for some reason, but the shard gun is just a thing of absolute beauty. I _love_ the noise when it fires, and the sleek look of the thing. The same for the mag-cannon versus the machinegun or the plasma cannon. Now, the same can't be said of swords: I dislike the arc blade on general principles(AKA it looks butt ugly), but I've always been a man whose tastes run to the practical. If a weapon is beautiful, that's because it is exactly what it needs to be for its task and nothing more or less. I don't get into weapon customization much for that reason(and when I do, it's usually to make them jet-black or mottled forest-green - you know, _practical_ customization). Plus, as a longtime fantasy writer, swords are a favored thing of mine - and it's no coincidence that the most legendary magic/fabled swords in my works tend to be absurdly simple designs rather than embellished and ornate ones.

That said, the base model sword in XCOM 2 is a machete and barely nicer to look at than the arc blade. The fusion sword, however, is freaking beautiful...and the Assassin's sword is just a masterwork, and not just for its practical gameplay benefits.

Until next time, _Vigilo Confido_.


	23. Black Site Raiders

_Please remember to favorite and follow!_

* * *

 _"For the dead and the living, we must bear witness."_

 _~Elie Wiesel_

* * *

 **Chapter Twenty-three: Black Site Raiders**

"Give me good news," Jane Kelly ordered, as two forms appeared from the dark shroud of nightly mist hanging over the thick Swiss snow. The Irishwoman shivered, grateful for the parka thrown over her kevlar, even as she wished for something a lot heavier.

"The facility is heavily fortified," Pratal Mox reported, which didn't fit Jane's definition of "good news" very well. "There are automated turrets covering most points of entry, and mobile patrols of lancers and mutons, as well as MEC units further in."

"Lovely." David checked his grenade launcher. "Does that mean we go loud?"

"Not unless we have to." Jane supposed it was all psychological, but this whole op made her acutely nervous. She was _Lieutenant Kelly_ now...so it was _her_ team and _her_ rodeo. Then again, she'd basically been in command on the last few drops(minus the one with Central) when you looked at rank and rank alone. Still, it all felt very different at this level, even though XCOM was no one's idea of a decentralized organization. "I wanted good news, Mox."

"All the Advent units are following standard patrol patterns," Elena Dragunova chimed in. "There are gaps in their coverage protected solely by the turrets, and between Mox and I we can bypass them relatively efficiently."

"I don't like _relatively_ ," Jane admitted. She blew air through her teeth, ignoring the white mist cloud that resulted. "All right. Mox and Outrider take point, and I'll follow up with David and Julie." She couldn't help but glance at the psi-op, still favoring her side when she walked. Her unnerving yet beautiful violet eyes had no give in them, even if she struggled to keep pace with her teammates.

"I'm fine," she insisted, for about the sixteenth time. "I can do whatever you need me to do."

"...right." At that exact moment, Jane wanted Julie to do nothing more or less than clamber back into the Skyranger's drop bay and play _I Spy_ with Firebrand. Somehow, she suspected getting XCOM's senior psionic killed in action would put her under just a _bit_ of a cloud.

"Right." She waved Mox and Elena on, unaware of how closely her thought process paralleled the Reaper's in India. "David and Julie with me, for the main body. And in the rear..." She eyed the hulking tan MEC a little warily. "Junior."

"I will comply," the MEC agreed, without a trace of hesitation. It hefted the biggest, meanest gun Jane had ever seen, and the BIT floated aggressively around its shoulders. "Call on me when pitched engagement begins."

"Sure thing." If Jane had her way, there would be no pitched engagement on this _stealth op_ , but she had very rarely gotten her way over the last few months. And she remembered what had happened to James' _stealth op_ under much more benign circumstances, so maybe having a killer robot in reserve wasn't so bad.

"We're still under com silence," Jane finally reminded her detail, before Elena and Mox could scurry off. "Only contact each other or _Avenger_ in dire need - or once the shooting starts, because they'll know we're there at that point anyway."

"Yes, _mother_ ," Outrider scoffed, and Jane tried very hard not to take offense. "This isn't my first drop, Irish. I know the plan."

"I'm just..." Jane coughed. "I'd rather repeat myself and tell you things you already know than..."

"You're talking to a Reaper," Outrider insisted. "I probably have a better idea of what to do than you do."

"I, for one, would much rather hear things I already know," Mox objected. "In my experience, if a soldier needs nothing explained to him, it is more likely he has misunderstood something critical and does not realize he has than that he fully understands his mission." He nodded to Jane. "I understand mine."

"Good." She resisted the urge to cough again. Nervous tic, it had to be. "Then let's get it done. Lead the way into the black site."

* * *

"Sir?"

"John?" Edward Gallant glanced to the steaming mug in Bradford's hand, then held up a finger. "Not yet."

"Sir, what do you..." Bradford trailed off as Gallant popped little red pills into his mouth. The Commander took a deep drink from a glass of water.

"Now, then." He offered the empty glass. "Trade you, Central."

"...of course, sir." Bradford looked quite confused, and Gallant enjoyed that as he took his coffee with great relish.

"You know, John, it's too damn early in the morning for something like this." Gallant stood in his pride of place, eyeing the holodisplay laid out before him. It showed a map of the black site area, but at the moment no transponders flashed to show soldier locations. Gallant drummed his fingers on ceramics. "They've got to be freezing their asses off."

"They're professionals, sir. And I imagine once they get inside that building, things will be a lot warmer." John studied the map as well, and Gallant could see the nerves in his tense posture. "In more ways than one."

"They're armed with new-model weapons," Shen pointed out, from where she manned a diagnostic tracker keyed to Junior - another thing that wasn't transmitting at the moment, as the team ran the risk of a silent infiltration. "Even if their cover's blown before they find the base commander..."

"Their odds are good," Tygan agreed, from Gallant's left. "But odds only carry us so far."

"They're the best soldiers in the world for this kind of fight. They have to be." Gallant frowned. He reached out to the display, and with a touch he pulled a different feed up. His lips thinned as he contemplated the bar. "Apparently we're not the only ones up at the Devil's hours."

* * *

The screen was blank, and every minute of that blankness sent new stabs of concern through Aileen Quinn's heart. She fidgeted, sitting up at the bar with more whiskey than was probably wise at this hour, grinding her teeth over each other in a way that was probably _also_ less than wise.

It didn't matter. Jane was out there, and David too. Her friends...and she was drinking whiskey while they potentially faced death or worse.

"And they sent a bloody robot in my place." She contemplated that for a long few minutes. "Maybe us soldiers ought to form a union."

At some point, the screen would go live, showing at least a general picture of the current mission's status. It always did, even if most people preferred to watch from the sidelines on the bridge so they could be privy to the decision-making process itself. Aileen would have been there herself, if she hadn't liked the idea of drinking herself sane a lot better.

"It'll be fine," she muttered. "It's Jane we're talking about! She'll be...she'll..." Aileen blew air through her teeth. "It's _Jane_. Damn it."

She shot the screen another glance, hating every second it was dark. Then again, dark meant no news, right? She chewed on the concept. No news was good news...or, it could just mean Jane had been impregnated by chryssalids already and no one _knew_ it.

 _How's_ that _for a thought that'll linger?_

She paused. Aileen's eyebrow quirked, and she shifted on her stool.

"Hey." The blonde rose, and she hurried down the line of booths with drink in hand. "What are you doing here?"

"Me?" Sylvie Richard's hair hadn't whitened yet, nor had her eyes gone purple. Instead they were red and bloodshot as she looked up from the coffee she nursed. She coughed. "I'm just...getting a drink."

"...right." Aileen frowned, then glanced at the screen. "Say, you've got an awful good view from over here."

"I do?" Sylvie probably had _some_ talents, but...

"Kid, don't take this the wrong way, but you'd never last in Ireland."

"What?" Sylvie blinked. "Kid?"

"You're what? Nineteen?" Aileen snorted. "And you can't lie worth a _damn_ , Paris."

"I am from _Nice_ ," she insisted, a stubborn light popping up in her eyes. "There is more than one city in France!" Now she turned away. "And I am hardly _un enfant_."

"Point being," Aileen pressed, "I know you're here for a reason."

"No, I'm just getting coffee-"

"And I bet it's the same reason I am." The Irishwoman sat without asking, right across from the psionic-to-be, meeting her eyes until she finally, slowly, wilted and nodded. Aileen took a drink. "They'll come through all right, Sylvie."

"I hope so," the Frenchwoman muttered. "If they don't..."

"Jane's as tough as they come," Aileen insisted. "She'll get Julie through this, I'm sure."

* * *

"I really hope you two know how to get through this," Jane muttered, resolutely trying to ignore the towering and shadow-casting buildings looming left and right. She eyed the roaming alien patrols and the angry turrets sitting astride the main lines of advance. "Because I don't have a clue."

"Analyzing." Junior quieted after that, and Jane gave David and Julie a "can-you-believe-this-shit" glance that they both returned in equal measure. _Robots_...on _their_ side!

"The turrets are coded to examine areas in sections, to defeat dedicated sensor-defying equipment." Mox checked his bullpup. "We can bypass their visual scans on the left side, and if we are quick, we can evade the lancer patrol."

"Right, the lancer and his friend." Jane chewed her lip. "What about the hulking white menace over there?" She pointed to the Advent MEC circling the general line of the yard, passing under the raised watchtower that gave field of vision - and fire - over most of the compound, including the railway cutting straight through the facility. There was a dormant train now, and Jane supposed the operating crew was either armored and on patrol or bunked down in one of the nearby structures like semi-sane individuals.

"It could make timing tight," Dragunova agreed. She leaned out from the shadow of the building they used as cover, obviously contemplating the monstrosity. "But tight is not impossible. Follow me and Mox, and we'll guide you through."

"And if worst comes to worst," David chimed in, hoisting his machinegun, "I can shred that bastard good and proper."

"Yeah. Let's fire bullets at a robot." Jane checked her shard gun, then reached up to touch the hilt on her back. Not the axe this time! She had a sword again, a sword fresh from R&D and interwoven with mechanical and electrical advantages. Shen had _personally_ assured the Ranger that her new blade could stop a pissed-off muton.

 _If I die because she fucked up at her lathe, I'm going to haunt her_ so _hard_.

"Analysis complete." Junior turned to Jane. "We will have a twenty second window to cross the yard from the moment the MEC patrol turns to follow the north wall to the moment the lancer patrol turns back about. And we will have to be mindful of the turrets during the dash."

"Oh, good." Jane took a breath she hoped was surreptitious. "How long until our window?"

"It begins in three seconds."

"Three sec-" Jane swore as she saw the MEC turn. "Well, shit."

"Move!" Elena popped out from the corner, and Jane growled under her breath.

"Junior, protect Julie!" Then the Irishwoman moved out, following Elena and ahead of David and Mox, forgetting psi-op and SPARK. Her boots sunk in snow and straight through to permacrete, and she ground her teeth as her breath hissed away in misty gouts.

"Turret!" David caught her shoulder, and the two slid down behind elongated green containers with black reinforcement, stacked in great job lots. Jane clutched her gun tightly as she waited on the optical sensor to move past her position...

"Wait a minute." She reached out to the container, and with a gloved hand she rubbed the glass. "This looks like some kind of storage pod."

"More like a coffin." David paused after that, and the pair traded a glance.

Jane actually swallowed.

"Move careful, now," the Grenadier urged, as the sensor pushed on. "Ten seconds."

"Ten-" Jane cut herself off, and then scrambled on and up, bolting for the looming boxlike building ahead, coated in snow that didn't manage to cover up the Advent sigil on the side.

"Get through that door!" she cried under her breath, or as close to it as she could manage, skidding to a stop by the portal in question. "Come on, woman!"

"Don't call me that," Elena snapped, as she hit buttons on her datapad. Mox eyed the corner, bullpup at the ready, and Jane checked her gun again. Her heart thundered.

"Five seconds," Junior warned, rejoining the group with a stumbling Julie in tow. "Four."

"Got it!" Elena stepped back and the door hissed open. "Go!"

"Three," Junior continued, as Jane waved David, Elena, and Mox inside. "Two."

"Go!" Jane seized Julie by the shoulder and practically hurled her through as the SPARK's big metal feet hit solid floors. "Close it!"

Thankfully, Elena didn't argue. Jane threw herself inside, flying through the electronically-closing doors with inches to spare, and it re-sealed just a heartbeat before the Advent patrol turned about to look.

And she flew right through an infrared sensor when she did it.

* * *

 _Beep_.

Her meditation was not something she liked being disturbed at the best of times, She floated in the air, slowly rotating, hands on her knees in what humanity called the lotus pose, in full armor with weapons on her back. It took considerable focus to maintain her levitation, and even the slightest interruption could jolt her to reality.

As this one did.

"What?" She managed not to snarl. She didn't like being disturbed, but at least this wasn't the sniveling concern of a lesser commander, or a taunt or insult coming from one of her brothers. No, this was an alert from her automated tracking system.

 _Switzerland?_ She set her legs down, taking her weight for the first time in days. Without disorientation, she strode to her terminal, reaching out with one hand to work the controls.

Yes, it was Switzerland. Not just anywhere in Switzerland either! Her eyes narrowed as she read the information on her display.

"... _XCOM_." The four-letter name came out low and guttural, and it made her lips curl up and her eyes light. Predatory joy rushed her veins, and she took a deep, cleansing breath of the pure air in her sanctum.

Then the Assassin turned for her teleportation chamber, reaching for the hilt of her sword and still smiling.

* * *

"Ow!" Jane came down on her shoulder, swearing more colorfully under her breath. "Stupid, _stupid_..."

"Give us a little more warning next time, how about?" David glared at Junior. He knelt to offer his hand, and Jane took it. "We'd have been sitting ducks if they'd turned early."

"It seemed unlikely," Junior objected, voice level. "I analyzed their deployment very carefully."

"You stupid bucket of-"

"Stow it!" Jane held up a hand. "Mox?"

"I...have no idea." The Skirmisher's voice was uncharacteristically subdued. "No idea at all."

They beheld a massive room of green lights and dark shadows, full of glass tubes tinted with white smog. They ringed the walls and stood in great rows down the room's center, and Jane's stomach turned as she fully registered the _smell_.

"What the...what the _hell_ is this?" Julie wondered. She raised a hand to her throat, staring at the rows and rows and _rows_ of suspended glass cases, and the darkened shapes inside. "Those are..."

"Bodies. _People_." Jane's eyes locked on the form of a woman who couldn't have been much older than her, floating gently at the top of her cell in a thick green solution, eyes milky-white and flesh stripped, but dark hair still flowing freely about her in a great cloud. "My god. The missing civilians."

"The aliens are _still_ abducting people," Elena whispered. "They...they must never have stopped."

"But why?" David's face was just as white as everyone else's, as he regarded the cells. "Test subjects for some sort of weapon?"

"This facility is more likely to be a refinery."

"What?" Jane whirled on Junior. "Where the hell do you pull that from?"

"Those cells are likely full of a stripping acid that reduces the occupants to their base ingredients." Oh, how could it _talk_ that...disinterestedly? "The reduced product is then processed through that equipment, before being distilled for purification there." It pointed, and Jane turned to the end of the room.

"...I see." She set her teeth, eyeing the purification system in question, and the vial set in the machine's center. "Miss Richardson, secure that vial."

"Yes, ma'am." Julie started that way, mag-rifle at the ready. Jane waved Mox after her, and the Skirmisher nodded. He kept back far enough to cover the psi-op's back in case a screaming Advent lunatic was hiding in among the bodies.

"This is..." Jane reached for her com. "We need to..."

"Jane, we haven't found an officer yet," David reminded her. "We can't break com silence when we're in the heart of the beast. If those patrols found us...if they knew we were in here, every single Advent unit in the facility would bear on us."

Jane swallowed. She lowered her hand, though, and gently paced across metal latticework stretched over dark spaces full of thrumming machinery and plumbing.

It stank and rang like the house of horrors it was.

"I don't understand," Jane whispered, reaching her goal. She took the heel of her palm and rubbed at the wall of a glass cell - just the same as those set in the center of the chamber, arranged for ease of movement by great cranes and gears set in the ceiling. "Why? It's...it's nothing but genocide-"

 _Wham!_

"Shit!" Jane jumped backward, leveling her gun at the glass. Behind it, manic eyes shone with desperate zeal, and Jane blinked when she realized just how human their owner was.

"...some of these people are still alive!" she cried. The Ranger leveled her gun. "Get down!"

She didn't know if the wretched soul in there heard her. She got the meaning clear enough, though, because she ducked low, covering her head with both hands. Jane set her teeth - and then squeezed the trigger.

 _Blam!_ It was a different noise than her shotgun had made, but it was no less destructive for it. The cell wall shattered under the hit, and Jane worked the pump quickly, just in case. Even before the alloy casing had hit the floor, she'd dropped her gun to hang from her shoulder, and the Ranger grabbed the weakened shards of cell lining, ripping a wider hole open on brute strength.

"Come on," she urged, the instant the gap was wide enough. "Let's get you out of there-"

" _Evangeline!_ " The woman inside was blonde and filthy and naked as the day she was born, but as soon as Jane had pulled her from captivity, she seized the Irishwoman's shoulders. She spoke, too, quite impassioned, but...

"Hey!" Jane shook her just as hard as she'd been shaken until the civilian broke off. "I don't speak French, okay?" She racked her brain. " _Je ne..._ um..."

"English?" the woman tested. Jane nodded.

"Yeah, I can get by in that-"

"My friend! Where is she?" The blonde stumbled to the next cell adjacent to hers. "She was here...they took us from Paris..."

"Paris?" Jane paused to glance over at David, Junior, and Elena. "The hell are you standing around for? There are more cells over there!"

"Jane, we can't-"

"Open them!" she cried. "That's a direct order, _Sergeant_ Dragunova!"

"Oh!" Really, the blonde made a more strangled noise as she beheld the specter of the deceased. She collapsed to her knees, lapsing into French for a long moment.

"How many of you are there?" Jane asked, hurrying up to her side. The woman shook, wiping at her eyes.

"She...she had a son..."

"Here?" Jane demanded. The woman shook her head.

"No...no, I don't know how many are here. I don't even know where I am."

"Damn it." Jane growled in the back of her throat, then turned and counted cells. "There's a maximum of fifty-two of you in here." That number turned her veins to ice. Fifty-two? How could her _six_ protect that many escapees?

All of them naked, running though the _Swiss Alps?_

"...there are guard lockers over there." She pointed. "Go see if you can find warm clothes. It's freezing outside."

"Freezing-"

"Do it, now!" Jane reached to her belt, and she drew the little personal payment she'd insisted on keeping, all those months ago. Her teeth were set and her eyes narrow, and her breath hissed out in angry, searing surges as she turned and strode purposefully through the maze and the death and her team's ongoing rescue efforts, tossing a large X4 charge to herself. "Now, if I were a critical support column, where would I hide?"

"Jane, I've got the vial." Julie appeared at her side. "What's this about prisoners-"

 _Boom!_

Not just any _boom_ , that. It came down from Above with searing purpose, and Jane blanched when she saw the purple light that came down with it, tinting the entire facility through the high windows.

 _Join me in the darkness_ , called a crooning voice on the wind, almost more imagined than real. It was harsh, it was deep...and Jane found it all too familiar, as it brought back memories of a far-away place and the hell she'd lived through.

"Oh... _shit_..."

 _...and I will end this quickly!_

* * *

 **Author's Note 23: Je ne parle pas Francais - et vous?**

The black site is possibly the most horrifying place in XCOM or XCOM 2. It's the alien base from EU combined with the Abductors and the worst bits of EXALT, and nothing you encounter in the field is anything like what you see there. And it only gets worse the more you think about it.

Another thing that comes up the more you think about it: Betos, Volk, and Bradford all make references later to _destroying_ the black site, not merely raiding it and taking the vial. Yet you never lay any charges or anything - not to mention Bradford and Shen's commentary on how some of the victims could still be alive. Shouldn't XCOM have done something to save them?

Well, courtesy of this fanfic, it did. Now we can all assume that the charge-laying and victim-saving happened off camera, and just wasn't included because it would slow the gameplay down too much. Agreed?

Then again, this is me writing this. Maybe Charlotte and the other escapees would have been more likely to live if Jane had left them in their cells...

Until next time, _Vigilo Confido_.


	24. The Grip of Death

_Please remember to favorite and follow!_

* * *

 _"It is not tolerable, it is not permissible, that from so much death, so much sacrifice and ruin, so much heroism, a greater and better humanity shall not emerge."_

 _~Charles de Gaulle_

* * *

 **Chapter Twenty-four: The Grip of Death  
**

"Shit... _shit!_ " Jane ground her teeth. "That's not good. That's not good at all."

Violet light still filled the night sky like a malfunctioning Aurora Borealis, and the thrumming noise of a psionic transporter shook the building. Jane's eyes flicked to the darkened spots of the room, and she could imagine the Assassin lurking in the shadows, watching and waiting for the opportune moment...

"What do we do?" David demanded, appearing at Jane's side. "There's the garrison, there's the Assassin, there's the prisoners _and_ the mission-"

"Mission's secondary." Jane made that decision as easily as breathing. "We have to get the prisoners out of here, and keep them safe."

"That's a great plan," David growled, "but _how_?"

"We can break for the hills," Julie suggested. "There's a haven, not far. I checked records before we dropped."

"They'll never make it," Elena snapped, hurrying past with an armload of Advent coats. "They'll freeze before leaving the valley. And even if they didn't, we'd be leading Advent right to the haven."

" _Avenger_ -"

"Firebrand can't carry sixty people." David shook his head, and Julie wilted. "And we can't risk bringing _Avenger_ herself in, not this close to a major Advent facility - and the Assassin herself." The Australian's scowl deepened. "This is probably the shortest rescue in history."

Jane let out a long breath. She leaned on the nearest column, idly planting building-wrecking high explosives while she did. Her fingers flew through the comparatively mundane task, and she ground her teeth again, harder.

 _There's a way_ , she thought stubbornly. _There's always a way. They had to_ get _these people here somehow!_

"Jane, we have minutes until they figure out where we are, at most," Elena reminded her, reappearing while Mox helped the prisoners. "We need a decision and we need it-"

" _Avenger_ , this is Menace." With four words, Jane broke radio silence and made her decision - quite possibly signing her entire team's death warrant. "Central, do you copy?"

* * *

" _Central, do you copy?_ "

"They've broken..." Gallant leaned over the holodisplay, and his eyes probed the facility diagram. "John?"

"Sir." Bradford touched his com piece. "This is Central. Sitrep, Menace?"

" _We're inside Charlie Building._ " Well, at least she was being vaguely circumspect about the team's location. Not that Gallant expected it to help, watching how quickly his own techs(with their crappy-by-comparison equipment) were triangulating the broadcast point. " _Sir, there are civilians that were held captive inside._ "

"To what point and purpose?" Tygan asked. Two minutes of terse explanation followed.

"My... _God_..." Shen's eyes bored, wide and unseeing, into the holodisplay. "This is worse than..."

"I'm sorry I asked," Tygan muttered.

" _I've laid X4 to demolish the building_." That made Gallant's lips thin, but he decided to pick his battles.

"I'm guessing you didn't break operational com silence just to report in." By Bradford's tone, she'd _better_ not have.

" _No, sir. I need the command crew to track that rail line and find out how close it gets to Resistance positions._ "

"The..." Bradford blinked. "Say again, Menace?"

"The line passes near a haven called _Humanity Falls_ ," Shen reported, ten seconds after appropriating a terminal with a minimum of politeness from a very confused tech. "If they can patch me into the train controls, I can drop the speed enough for the prisoners to eject from the train in motion, then lead Advent on a merry chase across Western Europe's rail net, all by remote."

"Tygan, get in contact with the haven," Bradford ordered. "Let them know what's coming and have their security on standby. We'll check in with them as soon as we're clear."

"Of course." The doctor hurried to another terminal. "That doesn't provide for the Advent garrison. They'll pursue the train, and if the Chosen is really on the ground-"

"I know." Bradford sighed. "Menace, you're going to have a running fight on your hands. I'll contact Firebrand and-"

Gallant cleared his throat, rather loudly. All bridge activity ground to a sudden halt, and he heard Jane Kelly softly suck in breath on the other end of the line.

"Sir?" Bradford blinked. "Do you have something to add?"

"Yes, actually." Gallant did his level best not to lean on his cane or the rail more than he had to. "Belay the Firebrand order, Central."

"Commander, the team will need an extraction before the drop at Humanity Falls-"

"No, they won't," Gallant growled. "They won't be taking the train, Central."

" _Sir?_ " Oh, Kelly asked the question, but she knew. Fighting Irish could read her CO's mind a little better than she thought, and a little better than Gallant was comfortable with.

"The garrison will pursue the train." He clasped his hands before him, trying to be as surreptitious about the fact that the clasping was done on the railing as he possibly could. "Unless someone prosecutes a holding action and diversionary strike, buying time for Shen to breach the train's security protocols and get the prisoners moving far enough away to be out of immediate threat." His lip curled. "And such an engagement offers a reasonable opportunity for Menace to complete its operational objective."

"Sir, the skulljack is an ambush weapon-" Tygan broke off when Gallant met his eyes.

"Sir..." Bradford made sure his com was disabled. "Sir, you're suggesting what can only be a suicide mission. They're up against one of the Chosen, at least one MEC, and God knows how many Advent."

"I'm aware, Central." Gallant checked his own com. "This is XCOM we're talking about. There's no finer soldiers in the world for the kind of fight we're bringing on. And besides, we brought the Terminator for a reason. Advent doesn't have a MEC monopoly."

Silence. The bridge crew traded glances, while Shen visibly struggled not to object. Gallant hoped his nervous inhalation wasn't too noticeable.

"We can win this fight," he insisted. "I _know_ we can. It's time we won _something_ , unequivocally, and reminded everyone that we're in this not for _survival_ , but _victory_."

* * *

"Sounds like a suicide mission," David growled, checking his machinegun. Jane glanced at him.

"It's for the civvies. Isn't that why we signed up?"

David let out a heavy sigh. "Yeah, I suppose. Just never wanted to go the way of my old team, that's all."

Jane snorted - quietly. "Me neither. Irina died so I wouldn't." She took a deep breath. "Still. We don't have to distract them long - just long enough for the train to get moving. Maybe we pull through."

"Maybe." David's eyes were dark. "I want a bloody drink."

"Yeah, get in line." Jane chuckled. "I'll buy."

"Not on your life. The gentleman pays, that's how drinking works."

"It's 2035, jackass, not 1800-"

"Don't you call me a jackass for being polite," David snapped. He huffed, and Jane put her free hand on her hip in what she supposed was Standard Feminine Posing - though her right hand had an alien-alloy-shard railgun pointed at the floor and there was an electrical death sword over her shoulder, so classical femininity was probably dangling by a thread back near the Italian border.

 _Good! I don't want any part of any femininity that excludes high explosives!_

"I'll call you a jackass whenever I feel like calling you a jackass," she insisted. "Bite me."

"As if!" David cleared his throat, turning back to the door. "You're the jackass, Kelly."

"I said it first." She took her position beside the exit, pausing to glance at Mox. "What?"

"Nothing." The Skirmisher had to be grateful for his helmet, but Jane would have sworn he was grinning. She pointedly ignored both him and her jackass of a Grenadier as they settled into position.

"Julie? Elena?"

" _We're set_ ," the Reaper chimed in from the other door, just far enough away that it was com or shouting. " _On your mark._ "

"Right. Well-"

" _Kelly_."

She stiffened. "Commander, sir?"

" _For the record_ -" Oh, _great_ , that was a definite note of reproach in his voice "- _having reviewed your visual data on that facility...permission to place charges granted_."

Jane blew air through her teeth, rolling her eyes. "That's awful kind of you, sir. Point taken." She turned to the door. "All right, Menace. On my mark, exit breach and shoot anything that moves." She glanced to the civvies clustered by the far exit. "Once we've drawn their attention, get across the yard to the train as fast as possible. Doctor Shen will take it from there, and Junior will cover your approach."

"I will comply with this order," the SPARK replied agreeably.

"Good." Jane sighed when she realized she was simply delaying and delaying for delay's sake. "All right. Three."

Hands tightened on gun grips. Jane took a steadying breath.

"Two."

She was sure she heard Julie's amp warming up.

"One."

Again she thought of that floating body in the acid, and all the others like it, and Jane didn't regret planting the charges without permission in the slightest.

"Mark!"

Mox hit the door switch, and then Jane burst free into frigid air.

* * *

"They'll be okay," Aileen Quinn assured. Somehow, she'd wound up sitting beside Sylvie in the Frenchwoman's booth, and they both nursed what were definitely not their first drinks. The Volunteer swallowed, watching the feed of the transponder beacons breaking into open ground.

"Are you sure?"

"Positive." Aileen glanced around the bar, spotting Da-Xia Liang, Aidan MacLeod, Cameron Rogers, and a few of the science and support personnel. With Mendoza, Weber, and Nunez dead, every single off-duty XCOM soldier was here in the bar, watching the fate of their friends and colleagues.

"Positive," Aileen lied. "They're going to be _fine_ , Sylvie."

* * *

" _Cat's in very bosh_ -"

"Shut up." Jane approved of how conversational her voice was in the instant before she pulled the trigger. The soldier barely had time to finish turning around before she sent a full load of alloy shards ripping through his insufficient armor to tear out his heart and lungs. The blast virtually eviscerated the poor man, _and_ the kinetic energy from the shot picked him up like a doll and flung him head over heels to crash in a heap.

Right on top of the white, ugly MEC's foot.

"Oh, shit!" Jane dove to the side as its mag-cannon leveled. She heard Julie and Elena firing over on the right, and Mox's bullpup barked as he followed on the Ranger's heels, but the sound that overrode her world in that instant came from the MEC's cannon, and from its shots as they hissed by on hateful scarlet trails, ripping furrows in the permacrete of the yard with every scattered hit.

"Someone _do something_ about that thing!" she cried, scrambling on all fours as the MEC's fire rent the boxes she used as cover into scrap. The Ranger managed to roll into a better position - down a convenient trench near the loading belts full of green stasis canisters - and she leveled her shard gun at the next target.

"Jane!" David's shoulder hit her sharply, and both of them tumbled. Fortunately, the Advent soldier she'd almost eviscerated went down a second later, ripped to shreds by Mox's bullpup.

"What do you think you're-" Jane broke off when _rockets_ soared through the air over her, bursting into miniature independent warheads and bursting in the air. She screamed, both from panic as shrapnel rained...and a deeper sort of panic when David threw himself overtop of her.

"The MEC!" Elena cried, distantly while the world shook and boomed. "Julie!"

"On it!" The redhead covered her head as she darted through the mess of airburst fragments, purple power searing over her arms. She drew her amp and her eyes glowed.

"David!" Jane pushed him off the instant the barrage ceased, and she scrambled to her knees. "David, are you-"

"I'm fine!" He had a scratch on his shoulder and another on his thigh, but that was remarkably light for the bombardment they'd just endured. He seized his grenade launcher. "We've got to-"

"Muton, on the right!" Elena's vektor _cracked_. "Officer and lancer!"

"Oh, _joy!_ " Jane stumbled that way, barely even noticing as Julie's power encircled the MEC, freezing it in an orb of stasis. The Ranger hefted her gun, lips thinning as she beheld the enormous green-armored alien with its rebreather mask, plasma rifle in hand, roaring a challenge as it stormed for the first piece of cover that would protect its bulk. The bayonet on its rifle glistened angrily, and Jane swallowed.

"The officer," she growled, reaching to the... _device_...on her arm. "David, you and Elena set me up to get a shot at the officer-"

 _Hiss!_

Jane never knew how she heard it. All she knew was that she did, even over the raging mag-fire and gunfire, the roars of the muton, the shouting of the Adventers, the searing whirlwind of Julie's power...

She heard the hiss of wind.

"What the hell-" She spun just in time. Jane brought her shard gun up, and because she did, it took the brunt of the sword-swing instead of her face.

* * *

"Oh, no," Gallant whispered, as the icon appeared on his holodisplay. He winced as Kelly flew almost eight feet, the broken halves of her shard gun crashing to the ground around her as she tumbled through a stack of stasis canisters and landed on the conveyor belt. He watched her tracker grind inside while she rubbed her head, and the Commander hissed. "That... _thing_..."

"The team will figure out a way to deal with her," Bradford growled. "She's not a major-"

" _I had not expected you to find this place_ ," the Assassin mused, and Gallant clutched his ears as her voice... _appeared_ in his head, _his_ head, even so far away. Bradford yelped, collapsing to one knee, while Shen nearly fainted. All across the bridge, personnel cried out and grabbed their heads, convulsing as their coms erupted with feedback. Tygan alone seemed unaffected, and he set to typing on his display with a will. " _You are threatening for pests, XCOM. This facility is crucial to the Elders' plan, and I am afraid I cannot allow you to leave now that you have learned the truth_."

"Holy shit!" Gallant held the railing with one hand, eyes screwed shut as the feedback bounced and rebounded. He ripped out his com piece, gasping as his brutalized eardrum felt the rush of cold bridge air. "Doctor Tygan-"

"I've decrypted her psionic-wave transmission and am isolating it from the communications net!" The scientist worked feverishly at his display for another minute, while more of the crew removed their earpieces. "I can shut her out-"

"Belay that!" Gallant set his teeth. "Leave the channel open, Doctor. The more she talks, the more we learn about her, and the more distracted she is."

Tygan hesitated, but after a moment, he nodded. "As you order, Commander."

"But," Bradford snapped, rubbing his ear. "Get rid of that..."

"Yes," Gallant agreed. He glared at his still-sputtering com. "That _noise_."

"Consider it done, Commander." Tygan spared a glance for the holodisplay, as David White engaged the Assassin at close range. He winced when the Australian took a hit. "He's not going to win that fight."

"He isn't trying to," Shen posited. "He's buying time for Kelly to get back."

"Yeah." Gallant's eyes turned to the two figures swarming up the Advent watchtower at the yard's edge. "Or for someone else to get a shot."

"Outrider," Bradford pronounced, with a thin smile. "Who knew she and Mox would work together _that_ smoothly?"

"They're professionals." Gallant cautiously inserted his earpiece. "Pulse is gone."

"Yes, sir." Bradford slipped his back in, and the rest of the bridge crew hesitantly did the same. All eyes fixed on Mox and Dragunova-

Something flickered. Gallant frowned as half the display...flickered in and out, and signals turned erratic.

"Doctor?" He watched as the... _disturbance_ flew across the field, approaching the team. " _Doctor?_ "

"Oh..." Tygan's eyes widened. "Commander, that's a serious problem."

* * *

"Do you have the shot?" Mox demanded, pausing to fire a burst at the first sign of black-helmeted motion he saw below. The stun lancer threw herself flat, swearing, and Mox contemplated the grenade on his belt. Maybe...maybe not...

"Almost." Elena took up position at the tower corner, sighting in close on her vektor. Mox kept guard, checking his ripjack and grapnel as the stun lancer edged closer and the muton's attention turned. The Reaper breathed out. "Assassin's moving after Jane. Almost..."

" _Mox! Outrider!_ "

Mox frowned. "Central?"

" _Get out of there, now!_ " There was an edge of...Bradford had no panic in him, but that was definite concern. " _You've got incoming!_ "

"What's _incoming_?" Mox demanded, spinning to scan the tower. "Outrider?"

"Got it!" Elena hit the trigger, and her rifle barked. Mox didn't dare look, forced to unload a quick burst at the nearest soldier as he started for Julie Richardson. The shots ripped into the puppet with a spray of yellow blood, but it didn't stop the trooper from shoulder-shoving the redhead straight back through the door into the black site's main structure.

" _Get out!_ " Bradford insisted. Mox reached for Elena, biting his lip.

"I don't understand," the Reaper snapped. "I have another shot on the Assassin-"

 _Hiss!_

Mox spun. He didn't spin fast enough, though, because a long trunk came out of the darkness, hitting him in the padded chest. The Skirmisher tumbled with a cry, rolling to the other end of the watchtower and hitting the far railing far harder than he was comfortable with. His bullpup skittered left, and he dug his ripjack into the ground as a brake.

"Mox!" Elena spun, bringing her rifle up. "What the hell-"

A shriek filled Mox' ears, though his helmet automatically dampened the noise to acceptable levels. He struggled to one knee, scrabbling for his gun...and ground to a halt when he saw Elena, rifle upraised.

Frozen in ice.

"Oh... _no_..."

The Viper King shrieked again, this time in challenge, and then it lunged.

* * *

"Julie!"

Jane Kelly rolled off the conveyor belt, after expending all too much effort. She scrambled on hands and knees, yelping as red mag-fire shredded desks and worktables around her, mixing with the green glow to create a lethal Christmas light show.

 _Who the hell followed me in here?_

"Julie!" Jane reached the psi-op's side, and she grabbed her by the shoulder. Julie groaned, and hope flared in the Irishwoman's chest.

"I'm alive," the redhead mumbled. "God help me, I'm alive."

"And you're going to stay that way." Jane grabbed her mag-rifle and amp and quickly threw them back in place, ignoring the shouting and shooting. "Come on. Get outside and I'll trigger-"

She saw it. It saved her life that she saw it: a flicker of scarlet motion in the gloom, as an officer's cape shot around a corner. It blazed in a gap between stasis containers, and Jane knew she had perhaps a second until the thing appeared in front of her, weapon leveled.

Her shard gun was rent in half. Her sword was strapped to her back.

She resorted to the one weapon literally close to hand.

" _Don-_ " That's as far as the officer got. He managed to upraise his hand threateningly too, but that took it off the gun, and that was fine by Jane, as her left hand first batted the weapon aside, then gave the red thing her best, most brutal hook. It staggered, and her right fist snapped out for a savage, trained-by-barroom-brawls uppercut with a decided lack of finesse and maximum of brutality.

An uppercut assisted by the computer-chipped blades that had just sprung out over her wrist.

"Gotcha, you son of a-" Jane's blow was so powerful she hoisted the officer off its feet for just a heartbeat. It shrieked, but her blades punched through its chin, into its mouth, up further and straight into the creature's brain. Neural activity completed the circuit, and the Skulljack accessed an Advent neural chip for the first time.

* * *

"She's done it!" Gallant cried, as the notification flashed up on the display. "Doctor-"

"We've managed to initiate cranial connectivity!" Tygan shouted, which won a ragged cheer. "I've dedicated the entirety of our systems to processing the new data, but we have to work fast. It won't take the aliens long to detect our-"

Interference spiked on the map. Gallant's heart stopped as he saw it, and his jaw cracked open as he watched a purple vortex appear in open space. It whirled and twisted inward, and he clutched cane and rail alike as a golden figure appeared in the center, with spiraling ebony smoke for hair and vicious red eyes full of hate.

Staring directly at Jane Kelly, before she could even discard the corpse.

"...to detect our intrusion," Gallant muttered.

* * *

"What the _hell_ is that?" Julie cried. All things considered, Jane thought her tone was fairly reasonable.

And she had no better idea than her psi-op did.

"Kill it!" Jane cried. "Kill the damned-"

It _shot_ for cover, flickering as it seemed to skip across the ground. The way it moved was...frame-by-frame, as if it was in one spot one second, then another the next, without having moved between the two points. It was disconcerting and wrong, and Jane's mouth went dry when it shot a hand toward her and her soldier, pointing with the authority of fate itself.

"Jesus Christ!" Jane covered her head as a violet vortex exploded around her. It drove knives into her ears, pricked up the hairs on the back of her neck, and ran harsh fingernails over her skin. Julie leveled her rifle and pulled the trigger, and the gun clicked mechanically.

"Jammed!" she cried, eyes wide with pain. "Let me-"

"No time! Move!" Jane didn't trust purple prisms of evil hate spawned from golden murder avatars, and she seized the redhead's hand, lifting her to her feet. "Get out of the light, idiot, before something-"

Something happened...but it wasn't the vortex. The vortex, the lightshow...that was the distraction. The shell game to Jane's mark.

And the Assassin was the pickpocket in the crowd...only coming in with a bit less subtlety.

"Jane!" Julie screamed, as the creature hit her with her sword-hilt. Jane tumbled, rolling across the floor and hitting a support column hard, crying out as something in her shoulder _cracked_ on impact. Pain rolled over her in a horrible wave, but somehow, she didn't care.

"Julie, _run!_ "

" _I'm afraid I cannot permit that_ ," the Assassin growled, and Julie howled an instant later, crashing down in front of Jane's eyes. The Ranger struggled to her knees, clutching a shoulder she suspected was dislocated at the least, as the Assassin approached.

"Julie...Julie, get up and..." Jane broke off when she saw the haze in her friend's eyes. Julie needed at least a minute to clear her head, dazed like that.

A minute she didn't have, as the Assassin and the golden... _thing_ advanced.

" _You have some fight left in you_ ," the Assassin mused, as it loomed over her. Jane reached for her sword, but the creature caught her wrist and flung her to the ground, almost effortlessly. Jane didn't even notice the deed: just the flash of agony and the sudden impact before the Chosen's boot. Blood burst from her nose, and she caught a good bit in her mouth. " _It's over, child. Let the resistance fade from your bones, and accept the fate of your world_."

"You..." Jane couldn't muster words, so she substituted a hand gesture. The Assassin's eyes flickered with cold amusement.

" _I think my brother would like you_." She reached out then, and Jane choked as the creature took her collar firmly in hand. " _Perhaps I will introduce you, after I break your spirit and learn what I can._ "

"Jane... _Jane_..."

Julie was moving. Julie was scrambling for her amp and her gun, but they would do her no good. The golden creature aimed a plasma rifle, and Jane could see the next moves of the dance all too well. Her friend would rise and try to fight, and all she would earn was death for it.

But there she was, right by the door, and if Jane timed things just right...

 _Funny_ , she thought, as her hand scrambled on her belt for the one thing she had left. _I never thought onrushing death equaled serene bliss_.

"Julie," she urged, coughing on blood. "Julie, I need you to-"

" _She can't save you, child_." The Assassin turned, obviously disinterested. " _Shall I bring her too_?"

"Julie," Jane ordered, meeting the redhead's eyes. She held up the object she'd plucked from her belt, and she cracked a smile, remembering That Day so long ago. "Cover your ears."

Her thumb came down on the detonator switch.

* * *

"Holy _shit!_ " Gallant stared as the black site abruptly came apart in a searing wave of fire. The shock wave flew outward, and so did the form of Julie Richardson, probably screaming up a storm as she tumbled halfway across the yard for the second time in a row. Smoke shot up and out, enveloping the firefight and bringing a temporary halt to Mox and the Viper King's sparring match, as well as David's engagement with muton and MEC. Junior was unaffected, storming his way back into the maze with autocannon at the ready, and Gallant breathed a little easier when he saw the train start to move, but...

"Kelly's transponder is no longer..." The bridge tech swallowed. "She's gone, sir."

"My God." Bradford's eyes hung wide open, and his shoulders quivered. "But she...she got the Chosen and the..."

"That appears to be the codex responsible for safeguarding the alien data stores," Tygan said. He hesitated. "And...Central..."

"Oh, I don't like that tone." Bradford's face turned a nice shade of puce. "Doctor-"

Gallant watched. He ignored everything his team had to say, and he _watched_ as three things happened all in a few heartbeats.

The Assassin hurled a chunk of fallen building aside, snarling angrily as she burst into open air, leaning on her sword in place of a cane. She marched into the smoke, and Gallant's lips thinned as she made a beeline for Julie Richardson, blade no less lethal for its current unmartial duty.

Another figure rose behind her, flickering in and out and barely visible on sensors. That it was the codex was never in doubt, but what stuck in Gallant's mind was that it... _twitched_ , in a very unusual way. That was right before the third thing.

The codex _sheared_ , pulling apart at the seams as it staggered from the explosion point, and Gallant's eyes narrowed as a _second_ one appeared across the yard, shaking its head as it practically fell to earth from nowhere, flickering and glowing just as energetically as the first one.

"I have never...in all my years..." Tygan's face went white. "It's _multiplying_."

* * *

"Oh, no. No. No, no, no!"

"It'll be..." Aileen Quinn wrapped an arm around Sylvie's shoulders, but she shook too, processing the suddenness of Jane's sacrifice, of the explosion and the carnage enveloping the yard. "Sylvie, it'll be-"

The protest died. It died _hard_ , and suddenly, as Aileen had to take in the situation splayed out on the screen. All the soldiers in the bar watched with sheet-white faces and horror-stained eyes, and Aileen was no different.

Julie was dazed. Elena was frozen. Jane was gone. David and Mox were blinded. Junior was alone.

And facing them? A stun lancer, a MEC, a muton, those two codices, the Viper King, and _the Assassin herself_.

"My _god_ ," Sylvie cried. She literally burst into tears, unable to rip her eyes away from the screen. "They're dead. They're _dead_ , they're as good as dead!"

"Sylvie..." Aileen swallowed. "Sylvie, they'll...one way or another, someone-"

"Who?" Sylvie demanded, shaking so hard the table shook with her. "Who's going to save them?"

* * *

 **Author's Note 24: Right in the Belfry**

I'll just say I like bookends. There's something clean about them. I'm also a sadistic character-murdering son of a bitch author, as you might have guessed after Mendoza. I don't think my alpha readers will ever forgive me for the time I killed off...well, let's just say I've got no regrets about a lot of murders I've committed through written word. I'll pull off some truly nasty ones later in this project.

Come back Saturday for the grand finale of Season One!

Until then, _Vigilo Confido_.


	25. Commander Gallant

_Please remember to favorite and follow!_

* * *

 _"If you know the enemy and know yourself, you need not fear the result of a hundred battles."_

 _~Sun Tzu_

* * *

 **Chapter Twenty-five: Commander Gallant**

"Oh, God." John Bradford ground his teeth as he beheld the situation: Assassin, Viper King, codices, muton, MEC, half the team down or dazed... "Oh, God. This is a disaster. They're going to-"

"Surely there's something we can do!" Shen clasped her hands over her mouth. "We can't just sit here and...and..."

"There's no way we can affect the tactical situation from here," Tygan murmured. The bridge staff watched in rapt horror, and Bradford knew - just _knew_ , without glancing at the bar feed - that Aileen Quinn, Sylvie Richard, Da-Xia Liang, Cameron Rogers, and Aidan MacLeod all had to be in limbo, hanging on the fates of their friends just the same.

"We have to...we can pull Junior out," Bradford began. "He's far enough away that-"

"Tygan, re-check Kelly's com."

The voice wasn't angry. It wasn't hard, it wasn't cold-edged or flame-tempered. Bradford's head spun, but he couldn't manage to speak - the shock of the voice, and of its tone, simply ripped his vocal faculties away.

"Shen, run a diagnostic on Junior's rocket armament and the jetboots protocol."

 _He_ stood in his pride of place, cane standing unattended by his side, and for once, Bradford didn't even think he was leaning on the rail. He stood unaided and stable, as if he'd simply decided to ignore the pain and discomfort, as if he'd waved his hand and willed his infirmity away. His fingers flew over the holodisplay, and in a flash he'd physically pulled status reports on every operative from far corners, opening them up with index and little fingers while his blue eyes burned...burned...

"John, I want a sensor pulse and whatever information you can get me on any of those active units. I want to know their ammunition, their injuries, their unit numbers - hell, I want to know what they ate for _breakfast_."

His eyes burned, but they burned _cold_. Cold with focus, cold with determination, and cold with a searing, undivided will to _win_ that John Bradford hadn't seen in two decades.

One that, somewhere so deep he could barely even admit it to himself, he envied.

"Did none of you hear me?" Commander Edward Gallant demanded, as his hands flew over floating data tabs. The words were sharp, but there was no hostile rage in his voice. Just that cold, cold, _cold_ will to win, and it seeped into Bradford's bones, fueling that manic intensity into his veins like his CO had stuck an IV in him and set it to pumping.

"...you heard the Commander!" Bradford cried. He nearly vaulted the rail to the technicians' pit. "Full power to scanners and ID the remaining units and their strong and weak points-"

"Diagnostics coming online for the com system!" Tygan shouted, as he scrambled back to his terminal. "Feed me any data on equipment-"

"Junior's weapons are at one hundred!" Shen called, bent double over her screen as she typed in a frenzy, biting her lip. "That MEC's cyber-shielded-"

"Don't give a shit." Gallant's lip curled. "Activate com lines and patch them to my display."

Bradford stared at the holodisplay, even as Sylvie Richard burst into tears on the bar feed. The veteran XO tried not to wince as the aliens finished dressing their ranks, but it was hard...hard, hard, _hard_...

 _They're going to die,_ he thought. He knew it in his bones, and everyone on the bridge had to as well.

Everyone except Edward Gallant.

* * *

" _Jane!_ "

Julie Richardson slid, scrabbling on permacrete, barely getting her knee under her in time to avoid hitting stasis canisters head-first. Her heart thundered and roared with fear and pain, and her eyes widened as she beheld the conflagration her field commander - her _friend_ \- had immolated herself in.

"No!" That wasn't Julie. The redhead turned her gaze, and she winced as she saw David White, ashen-faced as his eyes hung on the pyre. He shook on his feet, jaw working, everything in the world seemingly forgotten...except the Irishwoman the world had just lost.

" _No!_ " he repeated, and that was that. Julie raised a hand to stop him as the Australian turned back to the fight, but she couldn't do anything before he vanished among the stacked containers and scattered rubble with vengeance on his mind.

 _At least..._ Julie's eyes fell on the empty rail line. _At least the civvies are safe. They made it_.

That changed nothing.

"Jane..." The first had been a protest, and this was a plea. Julie could feel the stages of grief settling into her system, and even through her haze of shock she could easily skip the first and sink her claws into the second.

"You!" Julie rose to her feet, glaring, as the Assassin appeared from the flames, tinted red and orange by the roaring blaze behind her. The redhead grabbed for her rifle, but it was gone. She still had her amp, though, and Julie drew it from her back, fingering the trigger as she reviewed her abilities. Her injuries throbbed and ached, and she was relatively sure one of her gunshot wound collection had reopened.

And none of it mattered.

" _I must admit, the tendency of humans to eliminate themselves and spare me trouble is quite frustrating on occasion_." The Assassin pushed herself off her sword - and wasn't _that_ interesting, the way she was limping?

"Not fond of explosions, I take it?" Julie's lip curled, and her dirty ponytail flicked out behind her for a heartbeat as if lifted by the breeze that wasn't blowing, purple sparks flying from her highlights. "Don't worry. I'll hurt you a _lot_ worse."

" _You're brave_." The creature bared her teeth. " _We'll see how long that lasts when I hand you to the Elders._ "

" _Why do they have to_ talk _?_ " Commander Gallant wondered in Julie's ear. She blinked.

"Sir-"

" _Now!_ "

Julie didn't exactly know what he wanted from her. She hit the trigger on her amp, and power exploded before her, but the Assassin was fast. She lunged, and Julie's eyes widened as she realized how much distance the creature had covered in their dialogue. Rookie mistake, talking to her enemy and letting her guard down like that-

 _Wham!_

"Holy shit!" Julie cried, an instant before she released her soul-scorching blast. It rippled through the night, and she had the distinct pleasure of hearing the Assassin scream. Well, more accurately, the Assassin screamed _before_ Julie's blast hit her, and choked off into shocked and broken nothingness in the wake of her assault. Something about knives and needles driving into someone's brain was altogether different from a two-ton armored robot football-tackling them into solid permacrete.

"Your resistance is futile," Junior alerted the Assassin, as she lashed out with fists and feet. He shoved her another six inches into the ground. "You cannot overpower me."

" _Julie, watch your head!_ "

"What-" But she ducked anyway, and hot plasma sizzled through the air. Julie yelped, ducking behind a stasis container stack as two figures approached, weapons leveled.

" _Avenger_ , I thought there was only one of the gilded strippers!" Where the nickname came from, Julie didn't know and also didn't care. She winced as another blast of green light blew a chunk out of her cover. "Where'd the other one pop in from?"

" _She just appeared._ " That was Bradford, and Julie had never even _imagined_ the XO with that note of trepidation in his voice. " _Popped in out of nowhere when Kelly blew the building! Those codices can copy themselves!_ "

"Popped in out of..." Julie shook her head. "Sir, that doesn't...that doesn't make any sense."

" _Sensible or not, soldier, that's what_ -"

"The First Law of Thermodynamics," Julie insisted. "First Law! Energy and mass can never be created or destroyed! It can't just _copy_ itself, because that would mean creating new mass-"

She broke off. Julie broke off in a flash, and though she tried not to get carried away, the potentiality that had just occurred to her seemed far too likely not to test.

" _Soldier, what do you_ -"

"Mass. Mass can't be created." Julie tightened her grip on her amp, swallowing. "It's the same amount of mass. It's the same amount of _mass_ , which means each one of them is..."

" _What are you doing?_ " Bradford cried, as she spun out into the open, amp surging with power.

* * *

"Back away!" Pratal Mox backed that up by flinging the butt of his bullpup into the Viper King's face, and the animal shook in reaction to the hit. It slithered backward, shrieking angrily, and Mox deployed his ripjack blades in the moment of clearance he'd won. His arm lashed out, and the Viper King's next roar was of pain.

 _Wounds_ , Mox thought, as he spotted the marks and stitch lines across the creature's body. _It can't have had time to heal. It's weak_.

The thing retreated, though only temporarily. Mox brought his gun back around, taking aim for its remaining eye, not the empty socket-

" _Leave it!_ "

"Sir?" Mox didn't have time for anything but that. Well, _that_ and a sudden wave of shock. What was Gallant thinking-

" _Get Outrider and eject, damn it. Grapple out, and use your grenade, now!_ "

"Commander-"

" _Junior, engage!_ "

"Engage-" Mox stopped trying to understand. The King was disoriented for a moment more, and the Skirmisher swore in his native language. Still, the order to rescue Elena was well-taken, and he drove the butt of his gun into the ice coating the Reaper's still form.

"Ah!" She collapsed to her hands and knees, rifle hanging by its strap. Mox leaned down and seized her with his ripjack arm, releasing his gun to do the same.

"Hold on to me," he ordered, even as he saw the Assassin break free from Junior on the ground floor. It darted past the SPARK and into the darkness, fading more with every second, and that didn't exactly make the one-time Advent soldier very happy. If that thing got away-

 _Hiss!_

"No!" Mox swore as the Viper King's trunk wrapped around his waist. He lashed out with his fist, and the creature howled as he connected with an open wound. But it didn't yield, and its weight was far too much...

" _Get out of there! Now!_ " That was Bradford, and Mox set his teeth. The King loomed, baring its teeth and letting fly a spray of spittle-

 _Crack!_

It _screamed_. Anything would scream, Mox supposed, if a vektor rifle put a bullet down its throat at point-blank range. Elena's body shivered, but her hands never wavered, and the range had been less than a meter. Yellow blood sprayed as the bullet continued its journey and punched right through the snake's skin on the way out, and in its distraction, it released Mox. He almost shot it, or stabbed it, or did one of a hundred other things.

As it was, he simply seized the grenade from his belt and popped the ring, hurling it wide over the edge of the tower. It bounced across a stasis container and clattered down in a hollow, and Mox distinctly heard that stun lancer scream something very unhappy.

Then he wrapped his arm around Elena and raced for the rail while the Viper King was still recovering. She didn't resist, and clung to him when he braced his foot on the barrier and raised his arm to shoot his grapple line.

 _I believe the humans call this maneuver the..._ Tarzan _. Must have been a general in one of their wars_.

The King was too slow to prevent their extraction, as the grapple line set into one of the far buildings, and Mox hauled himself and Elena both across open space and well clear of the tower. The creature shrieked after them, before bringing up its bolt caster for a snap shot.

And the fact that it was looking after the escapees meant that it missed Junior pointing, and the BIT blinking acknowledgment before unleashing its Dragon II rocket straight at the tower.

Missile and grenade detonated effectively simultaneously.

* * *

"Tower's down!" Shen cried. A hungry cheer _almost_ erupted across the bridge, but the two or three voices that snarled their appreciation petered off after a moment, drowned in the oppressive upsurge of concentrated silence pervading all corners. Eyes flicked from map to terminals, and Purpose with a capital P infused everyone's movements.

And none more so than the man on the command platform, fingers still flying as he called up data and dismissed it, freewheeling and forming plans on the fly with one eye half-closed and his lip curled.

The fragments of the tower hadn't even finished coming down - and the limp, obviously expired corpse of the Viper King, ripped in two pieces and spewing a yellow comet's tail - before his attention turned, and in a flash Gallant had called up David's inventory and run a scan on his enemies.

"Frag, here!" He tapped a point on the holodisplay, and a blue beacon shot up. "Grid Charlie!"

" _Sir-_ "

"Do it, man!" Gallant dropped White from his world then, barely even noticing the execution of his order - and the blast that ripped the MEC's frontal armor plate to shreds. "Outrider, Mox, finish it!"

" _It will be done!_ " Then Mox's gun roared, and Gallant stewed in grim satisfaction as the MEC's inner circuitry took a vicious barrage of rapid-fire rounds...and a few more surgical ones from the Reaper at Mox's left, still shivering but with her vitals up over the worry line. The machine shivered and stumbled...and also _fell_ , crashing on its back and an Advent soldier with a tremendous groan of yielding metal.

"Assassin's gone dark somewhere out there!" Tygan shouted.

"Don't give a shit," Gallant repeated. His eyes fixed on the next target. "I want those codices down!"

* * *

"Hey!" Julie dropped, sliding under an Advent truck as plasma-fire rent the air around her, slapping her with muggy heat even here in the Swiss Alps. The redhead rolled to her feet on the opposite side, and she dove behind an honest-to-god APC she was just glad the aliens hadn't had time to bring online.

Purple seared her palm as she hit her amp's trigger, and the psi-op ground her teeth in rage.

"Die!" she ordered, bursting around the corner. The codex facing her leveled its gun, but Julie was faster, and violet energy ripped into it on all sides. The thing shrieked, almost piteously, dropping its gun and clutching its head as sparks and tendrils shot in all directions. Its smoking hair scattered, wafting up and out while distortion like that in a bad vid-com connection raced over its form from head to toe.

Then it _burst_ , less like a bomb and more like a balloon poked by a needle, and what little was left of its energy scattered, dissipating in all directions.

Its cybernetic skull plate hit the ground an instant later, hissing purple smoke.

"That's for Aunt Penny," Julie growled. She kicked the skull plate on general principles, for just an instant forgetting the raging fight around her. "Now-"

 _Chirp!_

It wasn't a chirp. In fact, that wasn't even close to what it sounded like, and Julie berated herself for that unthinking description even as she spun. But now that she'd used it, she wouldn't be able to un-hear it, and every time the golden creatures made noise, she _knew_ that's what she would hear.

 _Psionic feedback, that's what that noise is_ , Julie thought, as the other codex - the other _half_ of the _same_ codex - loomed behind her, weapon raised. Her mouth went dry as its power cell warmed up. _Oh, shit_.

* * *

" _Julie!_ " Sylvie Richard cried, nearly flinging herself out of her booth. Aileen Quinn held her down by force of will and a good bit of upper-body work.

"There's nothing you can do, rookie-"

"She's going to die!" Sylvie's face twisted with horrible, gutwrenching terror and certainty. "Oh, my God, she's going to die-"

"Sylvie..." Aileen didn't know what to say. But the best way to keep from falling into your own chasm of furious grief was to help someone else keep her own head above water, and at least this kept the Irishwoman's mind off the woman who had become the sister she'd never had. "Sylvie, you've got to stay calm-"

"Calm?" Sylvie demanded. " _Calm_?"

"Calm!" Cameron Rogers agreed. "Sylvie, you panicking won't help-"

"Me _not_ panicking won't help either-"

"Shut up, all of you!" Da-Xia Liang stood in a flash, slamming her hands on her own table. Not even that could calm Sylvie's ongoing rush of tears and her broken sobs, but the light burning in the Chinese woman's eyes was enough to halt Aileen's train of thoughts rather conclusively. "What the _hell_ is that?"

Aileen looked back at the screen. She looked, and her own hands tightened on the edge of the table.

" _No_ ," she breathed. " _No way_."

* * *

The codex twitched at the last possible second. It must have _finally_ recognized the sound bearing up on it from behind, or used some more ethereal form of detection. It brought its gun around in a flash, almost teleporting through its 180, chirping a challenge.

That still wasn't fast enough, and an electrically-reinforced blade sliced through its throat with one savage backhanded swing.

 _Pop!_

There wasn't silence. There was too much fire, too many flying projectiles, too much screaming and shouting and too many explosions for anything like silence. But there was a bubble, for just a moment, and a sheer instant of... _duller_ mortal action.

"You..." Julie Richardson's eyes flared with shock and gratitude and a bit more shock on top. Her jaw worked, her face paled...and then she almost screamed. "You lucky broad-"

"Watch what you call your CO, Richardson." Jane Kelly lowered her soot-stained, scraped-open, raw-and-bleeding arm with her sleeve half-burned, struggling to see through the ash and dust caked across her eyes, wincing every time a buffet of night air wafted onto the ugly burn mark spread over her cheek and down her neck. Her leg was a little unsteady, and her hair still smoldered.

 _But_ , Jane thought, taking almost giddy joy in the utter simplicity of the victory - and the small comfort it presented, more precious than many comforts far more mighty. _But my goddamn hat is fine._

"How did you..." Julie's expression broke with relief and joyous clarity. "How the _hell_ did you survive the blast-"

"Not my first time, red." Jane snorted, then spat soot. "Maybe I'm building an immunity-"

It was a fist, she supposed: a fist appearing from the darkness and driving into her chest like a piledriver. The impact hurled her off her feet, and she came down hard several meters distant, sucking in desperate gulping breaths and already scrambling for the sword that she'd lost in flight.

She caught it. Her fingers wrapped around the hilt and Jane rose to one knee, interspersing the blade in the nick of time as another one came down for the crown of her head.

" _We meet again, Jane Kelly_." The Assassin's eyes glowed purple. " _I grow tired of you_."

* * *

"That's the..." Sylvie clutched the base of her throat. Liang's eyes were wide. Cameron and Aidan traded glances.

None of that shit for Aileen Quinn, not with Jane returned to life!

" _Come on, Irish!_ " she screamed, leaping to her feet and making everyone else in the bar jump. Gazes turned, but Aileen just let out a wild whoop and threw her glass across the room, careless for the shattering of glass. " _Kick her arse!_ "

* * *

"Her com must have been dislodged in the blast and destroyed in the fire-"

"Don't give a shit," Gallant told Tygan, for the third time. He didn't spare even a moment to watch Jane surge to her feet, to watch her sword flash and the Assassin's with it. "We've still got a muton to deal with down here."

"Mox and Outrider are too far out," Shen warned. "They're hurrying through the tower's wreckage, but she's still limping. Mox could detach-"

"No. Dragunova needs him more than White and Junior do."

"White and _Junior_?" Bradford demanded. "Sir, if that muton lands a hit that counts, White's _dead_. He doesn't have armor that's proof against plasma fire-"

"He won't need it."

"He's out of ammunition-"

"Not entirely." Gallant tapped the muton's position. "Grenade, now!"

" _Sir, I don't have any_ -"

"Yes, you do!" Gallant reached for Junior's com icon. "Do it!"

White swore. But Gallant didn't reprimand him, because he did pull out his grenade launcher and pull the last remaining device off his belt, dropping it into the weapon from the muzzle end, already attached to a propellant charge.

" _Fire in the hole!_ " White reported, in the instant before the device went out.

"Sir, we have no idea whether-"

"Junior, engage target at Golf Nine." Gallant didn't even bother acknowledging Bradford's word of caution. "Should be a clear shot."

" _Affirmative, Commander_."

"And what if it doesn't work?" Bradford demanded. "If that thing throws a grenade, we lose half the team-"

"It'll work." Gallant watched the little charge clatter down by the muton, beeping and blinking with blue light. "It's Vahlen's. Vahlen's toys never fail."

The muton roared, almost incredulously, when the bomb failed to detonate. It might have been laughing as it paused from the suppressive fire it was in the process of laying out in David White's general direction, and the beast seized the abortive explosive in one meaty, four-fingered hand.

Gallant smiled when it burst _then_ , and sapphire gas exploded out around the alien, hardening in milliseconds on contact with the air.

"So, John," Gallant asked, admiring the muton statue Junior approached, autocannon at the ready. "Do you think it'll work?"

* * *

 _Clang! Clang!_

Jane's arc blade whirled in orange loops and circles, and at every turn, it met resistance or air. The jet-black, unadorned blade of the alien beast she stood locked in battle with made the same deadly figure-eight patterns and spun about in the same torturous whirwind, and Jane parried as much as she evaded and struck. Metal met metal in showers of sparks and crackling lightning from the arc power cell.

Jane didn't know what was happening to anyone else. She knew half the yard burned and there didn't seem to be as much shooting, but the last time she'd tried to look at anything but the Assassin - the Assassin, deftly spinning through techniques like a ballet dancer who minored in kendo - she'd received a nasty cut on her good shoulder. Every move cost her agony now, as her burned leg and burned arm and slashed shoulder all protested the strenuous requirements of swordswomanship.

 _Clang!_

"Ow!" It was ridiculously stupid, Jane knew. She made it sound as if someone had trod on her foot in the supermarket...when in fact, the Assassin's blade had come down on hers with enough force it was flung from her hand. Jane stumbled, clutching her stinging palm...and stopped when the Assassin brought her sword up.

" _You're not very good at this, are you?_ " she wondered. " _You don't live up to my expectations for a great swordswoman_."

Jane lunged. She ducked past the blade, wove up into the Assassin's face, and unloaded an Ireland back-alley set of hooks and uppercuts and elbows: the kind of thing Resistance mentors taught as easily as breathing, good against the lone Advent sympathizer intent on turning you over to his leash-holders. Obsidian had been Jane's tutor in the fine art of turning faces to paste with bare flesh, and she liked to think she'd been a good student.

Which didn't change that her strikes struck only air.

" _Fuck!_ " Jane barely clipped the word out before it trailed off into a high-pitched howl. She collapsed on one knee, clutching the line ripped open from her armpit down to her hip, already seething with red. The Ranger's vision went in and out, and she wavered where she knelt.

" _You are beaten, child_." The Assassin's guttural growl was oddly gentle, given all that she was and all that Jane expected. " _You are beaten, yet there is no reason to die here today._ "

Jane looked up, feeling the heat of the fire and the searing pain of her wound collection. She swallowed dryly, beholding the leering blue face with its hateful purple eyes and abominable pointed teeth...and beholding the blade that ran with Jane's own blood, dripping off one bit at a time to _plop_ down in front of the brunette's face.

Silence lingered for a long moment.

 _James. Obsidian. Irina. Nunez. Mendoza. Weber._ It was very clinical, how those names presented themselves to her. She thought of the civilian's broken body inside the black site too, and Jane's lip curled as her eyes drifted past the Chosen to the hellscape behind her, and the blackened shape in it.

"Go to hell," Jane finally encouraged, before risking the amputation of one finger in particular. She spat contemptuously. "Go to hell, and while you're on the way, take that sword and shove it up your-"

" _A pity. I had hoped to take you alive, but I don't think I can take that risk, after what happened inside_." The Assassin leveled her blade, and Jane swallowed as it touched the back of her neck. " _I will give you the mercy of swiftness._ "

"Evidently not," the Irishwoman snapped. She spat again, but this time in an altogether different way. "And it's going to cost you."

To her credit: the Assassin immediately lifted her sword to finish Jane off, eyes narrowing. That kind of reaction would have saved her...if she'd resorted to it _before_ bursting into talk.

Not to her credit: she hadn't noticed that when Jane fell, she'd fallen right overtop of her sword.

 _Clang!_ Jane's blade came up and she caught the alien's assault bare inches from her hat. It still wouldn't have been enough alone, because Jane's arms wavered from the exertion. The Assassin had already withdrawn her blade and twisted into position for an impalement by the time the brunette was able to bring her sword back around, and she knew she wouldn't be able to block this.

Fortunately...

" _Glory to my ass, bitch!_ "

Purple light exploded around the Assassin's head, and she shrieked in agony. Her sword fell from nerveless fingers as both hands went to her temple, and the creature stumbled backward, howling and wailing, cursing while knives drove into her ears and eyes and rippled through her brain tissue.

"Now!" Julie Richardson cried, and Elena Draguonva hurled something light and small. It fastened to the Assassin's chestpiece, and the creature looked down in sudden shock.

An instant later, Elena's vektor fired a single shot...and the claymore detonated.

The Assassin's body protected Jane from the worst of the blast, but she'd already realized that wouldn't be enough. The brunette was perfectly content to trade her life for the Chosen's, and she waited with a grim smile as the Reaper's bomb erupted with fire and shrapnel, wondering if it would be James, Irina, or Obsidian who met her first on the other side.

That fatalism was why she didn't notice the vise-like grip that caught onto her ankle...and tugged.

" _Whatthefuuuuuuuuuuu-_ " Jane wasn't exactly proud of her eloquence, but when something hauled her out of an explosion's blast radius by the _bad ankle_ , dragging her over the ground at well more than running speed, she wasn't at her most speech-y.

"My apologies, Lieutenant Kelly." The line disentangled, and while Jane lay gasping and bleeding on the ground, hands found her. "It was the only way to remove you from the situation."

"It was..." Jane coughed and cried out as Mox ripped open her shirt, pulling out a medkit and spraying her with nanobots that quickly injected stimulants and painkillers, even as they stitched the wound. "Of course. You have a _grapnel launcher_."

"Jane!" Someone else appeared, crashing to his knees beside her. "Jane, you fucking crazy imbecile, are you-"

"God, David. I thought you _liked_ me." She pushed herself half-upright, eyes probing the darkness even as she shivered in the cold. "Where's the...where's the Chosen?"

"Dead," David pronounced, with cheerful zeal. "It's dead. It _has_ to be dead."

"It's alive." Julie Richardson appeared from the darkness, amp in hand, uniform ash-coated and ripped in a hundred places, stained yellow as equally as red. For all of it, Jane had never thought the fresh-faced American looked more like a proper soldier. Something about the way she carried herself was new, different...and a lot less hesitant. "I sensed her energy departing. She's been preserved somehow by the Elders...but she's gone. She's going to be gone for a good long time, after being blown into ashes like that."

"Good!" Jane sat up all the way, ignoring Mox's murmured warning but taking David's offered hand to steady herself. Jane leaned on him where he hovered, eyes flicking from Julie to Elena's shadowy figure at her heels...to Junior's bulk as he kept watch over the gathering...

"We did it," she finally whispered. "Holy... _shit_...we're not dead!"

"Not quite," Elena agreed. She took a step, but it was David who pulled Jane to her feet. She couldn't keep herself from leaning on him still further, and he didn't seem to mind at all.

"That was brilliant. Waiting while I distracted the Chosen, unloading on her like that..." Jane shook her head. "That was masterfully planned. Nice work, Outrider."

"That...wasn't me." Elena glanced to the rest of the team. "None of us thought that fast."

"Then...if it wasn't you..." Jane frowned. "My com got turned into barbeque."

"I can transmit," Junior assured her. "Initiate Relay Mode."

"I didn't...ask you...to do that..." Jane sighed as the robot beeped and flashed lights, and something about diagnostics flashed up on his monitor. "Sure, fine. Relay Mode." She squared up and faced the SPARK. "Commander?"

"... _Kelly_." That was him, and that was a subdued note in his voice. " _I can't see your vitals, but I see you on scanners_." He hesitated. " _I'm glad my little brainstorm was enough._ "

"We..." Jane again glanced among her friends. "Odds like that, and we all...every single one of us got through." She shook her head slowly. "Sir...you've got to be the best commander alive today."

"... _I can only work with the tools I'm given_." His voice was _much_ quieter than usual. And there wasn't even a _hint_ of bitter anger. " _Don't sell yourselves short, Menace_. Any _of you_."

For a moment, it was quiet except for the flames.

" _You need to extract_ ," Bradford finally chimed in. " _Firebrand is en route. We'll be very interested to study the vial you retrieved from the facility, as well as the brain plate from the codex_."

" _Bring the Viper King's body, too_ ," Tygan urged. " _It may prove useful_."

"Right. Cleanup duty." Jane waved. "Junior, find the pieces of the snake. Someone collect the brain plate-"

"Got it." Elena leaned down and swept one off the ground. "The other one broke under Julie's psi-assault."

"All right, then." Jane glanced to David while Junior stomped off into the darkness. "You do realize you can let go of me at any time?"

"Can I?" the Australian wondered. "Any time I let you go, I wind up having to help save your arse from something or the other."

"Well, you can't hold on to me forever," Jane warned. "Besides, I've saved your arse a good bit too." Deliberately, she pushed away. "I'm a big girl, David: I can stand up by myself."

"I'm not letting you out of my sight until you check in at the medbay," the Grenadier growled. "You could have died!"

"And I didn't. Deal with it."

"I _am_ dealing with your unfortunate survival-"

"Clearly not very well-

"I'm awful tired of your back-sass-"

"Then I'm afraid you need to get a girlfriend so you can stop having to hang around me-"

"Well, maybe I should, then!" David cried. "Someone halfway _sane_ , who doesn't try to get shot every five minutes!"

"Oh, you know you'd get awful bored awful fast." Jane scoffed. "Shut up, David."

"You shut up, woman," he snapped. "You could have died tonight..."

He trailed off as Jane met his eyes.

 _Funny_ , Jane thought, in an almost detached sort of way. _For all the back-and-forth, and all the snark and the insults...he's got a tear in his eye._

 _He really did think I died, and he looks like he's going to cry over it_.

Adrenaline, really. Jane was all doped up on painkillers and steroids, and high from the thrill of battle and the rush of near-death, agonized by her serious wounds. Anyone would believe that she wasn't herself tonight.

Anyone except David White, and anyone except Jane Kelly.

Jane's lips hit his with sudden firmness, and the raggedness of his beard scratched around her mouth and tickled her cheeks. She had to stand on tip-toe to reach him, and somehow that sent a pleasant little buzz through her up and down. She clutched his shoulders for steadiness, but she also felt his arm lock around her waist - purely for her stability and safety, she was sure. She tasted his lips, and shivered when he did the same to hers.

 _Clap!_

Jane broke loose with a splutter. She turned, and David - a little shocked in the eyes, but certainly not unhappy - along with her. Both of them scared at Elena Dragunova, who made an odd sight as she applauded from the dark back of the group in full trench coat and helmet.

"Go Jane!" Julie added a minute later, and the Ranger knew her cheeks matched the psi-op's hair as she added her clapping to the mix. Mox chortled, and then he joined in.

"Yeah, yeah," Jane muttered, coughing into her elbow. She shuddered both from the joy of David's touch and his breathless muttering and from the sheer relief of hearing Firebrand's engines roaring over the base. "Get in the damn dropship, assholes."

* * *

"Go Jane!" Lily Shen repeated, and to hell with the apparent fact that she didn't seem to like the Ranger all that much. "She shoots and she scores!"

All around the bridge, the technicians and staff nearly broke their voices cheering and whistling. They stood and clapped at the holodisplay and the way it had recorded every moment of that Event - far more important than the battle - and no one was immune to the searing joy that had driven everyone to their feet.

Well...there were two.

"Thank God." Edward Gallant leaned gently on his cane, and while all attention was away, his walls came down for just a moment. "What that'll do for morale..."

"Sir." John Bradford reached out to touch his arm. "Sir, I think things are about to change around here for more reasons than that."

Gallant eyed the bar feed, and his lips twitched when he saw the absolute riot the entertainment center of the ship had turned into. The bartending staff fired off bottles of champagne that cost more than some guns with wild abandon, and engineers and scientists grabbed drinks along with the off-duty soldiers who _wouldn't_ have to attend any funerals in the next few days. None of them would go to sleep wondering if they could have saved their friend, if they'd only been deployed, and that was probably the greatest gift Gallant could have given them.

He watched Aileen Quinn, slamming her drink together with Liang's so hard the commander expected them to shatter. They toasted a dozen times before they bothered to throw the alcohol back, and then MacLeod and Rogers joined them, arms around each other and pumping their fists in the air like college students celebrating a football game had in Gallant's younger days.

His eyes settled on Sylvie Richard, still in her booth, quietly weeping as she beamed and drank, and the Commander's lips twitched into something approaching a smile.

"Somehow, I don't think Julie is going to make it ten paces out of Firebrand's hold before someone tackles her," he observed.

Bradford paused. "I'll take your bet, sir. Ten bucks?"

"You _don't_ think she's been pursuing our senior psi-op at least as hard as Kelly and White chased each other?" Gallant eyed his XO. "You blind, John?"

"No, sir. I just don't think Richard's got the _public-affection_ thing in her veins. She'll content herself with hanging _on_ to Julie until she can be reasonably certain she's got her all to herself. _Then_..." Bradford grinned, and he made a very crab-like snapping gesture. Gallant laughed, and the XO smiled. He sobered quickly. "Things _are_ about to change, sir."

"Why?" Gallant ignored the continuing celebration. "What's new, except Kelly and White...and Richardson and Richard, of course?"

"Well, sir..." Bradford shrugged. "They were dead meat. We all knew it. I knew it, Shen knew it, Tygan knew it. The bridge staff, the off-duty...hell, Edward. The nearest _politician_ would have guessed it. None of us believed they could pull it off, especially not _all_ of them." He reached out and tapped Gallant's chest. "No one except you."

"I didn't..." Gallant coughed. "Glorified management."

"You saved today," Bradford corrected him. "You just proved to them that you _are_ good enough to yank a victory from impossible odds - and you did it without losing any of them. You relied on their bravery and their skill, but you led them to a victory they shouldn't have won. People remember things like that."

Gallant eyed him for a long moment. Then he squared his shoulders and turned back forward. "Alert the galley. We'll need hot food for the entire crew. Get a good meal in everyone's belly, make sure they have access to drinks, and send the laundry detail to make sure their beds are in as good condition as possible. Kelly's probably bunking in the infirmary - and I wouldn't place bets against Dragunova and Richardson joining her - so make sure we've got at least three beds ready there. No, make it four: an extra just in case." He cracked a smile. "After all, if Julie's sleeping in the infirmary, I'm not wholly convinced Sylvie won't insist on staying with her."

"Fair enough." Bradford paused to salute. "Yes, sir...Commander Gallant."

* * *

 **Author's Note 25: All I Want For Christmas Is A TV Tropes Page  
**

And that brings Season One to a close. I'm not going to clog this AN up too much, but let me start by saying that I really appreciate all the views, and all the reviews I've gotten. This project has fought me tooth and nail - I'm accustomed to a wordcount output in the thousands per day, and I've clawed for _hundreds_ on VC - for almost the entire time I've worked on it, and it becomes a lot easier to stomach and face the fire and the fight again when I can look at reviews and know that the effort is appreciated. So thank you to anyone who's left me encouraging words, and I hope to keep entertaining.

I'm going to be taking a break now, so I can focus on certain other of my projects. Season Two will happen - or, if it doesn't, it will be because of unforeseen circumstances - and I'll likely start development work on it early next year. As of the time of this writing, I'm gearing up one of my manuscripts for #PitMad, and I'll be working hard on that until about when this chapter drops...and from there, I have my next blog story to write, and after that I want to produce at least one completely new IP. Expect Season Two to begin airing sometime in Q1 of next year. In the meantime, check my profile page for any news on VC. There's also a link there to my blog, where you can keep track of VC and any of my other works.

Take care, Merry Christmas, Happy New Year, Happy Hanukkah...uh...insert whatever other appropriate statements for whatever you celebrate and do that I'm just too dense to know of. And never stop being kickass!

Until Season Two... _Vigilo Confido_.


	26. Roads

_Please remember to favorite and follow!_

* * *

 _"A little more persistence, a little more effort, and what seemed to be hopeless failure may turn to glorious success."_

 _~Elbert Hubbard_

* * *

 **Chapter Twenty-six: Roads**

"Shit...shit...shi-"

Jiaying cried out as her running mantra abruptly came to a halt, shattered by the rock that tripped her. She clamped a hand over her mouth afterward, praying altogether more earnestly than she had in many years that the night was in fact as still and quiet as it portended. There weren't even any insects making what her uncle had always called "cheery night noise".

No running feet. No shouting. Jiaying let out a quiet sigh after two minutes of peace crawled by. Gingerly, she swept up the bag that had flown from her shoulder with her tumble, throwing it over her shoulder as she crept up to her toes, throat very dry.

"Of course," she muttered. " _Of course_ the local captain gets his head out of his ass _tonight_. Why couldn't he maintain his stupidity for just one more lousy..."

No point to complaining. And less to lingering - Jiaying had no idea what would happen if Advent caught her, but she was fairly sure she wouldn't be showered with the Elders' praises and held up as a sterling example of humanity. Especially after she'd made such a good show of...liberating...things that she wasn't supposed to.

"Go, go," she muttered. "They can't be far ahead." Ingrained attention to the English language - legacy of her never-sufficiently-cursed schoolteacher of a mother - made her clarify, even though there was(hopefully) no one to hear her. "My contacts. Not Advent."

Her feet fell in the dust. This part of Italy was about as far as it got from the Vancouver apartments she'd called home all through her childhood, but sometimes life tossed little boats around. Jiaying was very aware hers was about as small as boats got. A little caracole, or perhaps even an inner tube.

And the storm was rapidly turning into a Category Five hurricane, thanks to that mysterious god of war on the other side of the metaphorical barbed wire.

"Almost," she muttered, as she hurried around a corner, darting a glance over her shoulder so fast her ponytail defied physics and flicked out in _front_ of her. "Almost there." She allowed herself a little chuckle, turning back to the road. "I guess maybe the captain _still_ has his head up his-"

" _Donut!_ "

* * *

"They're coming!"

"Good!" Mariah seized a pistol from the workshop, hunting for the safety. "Bring 'em on!"

"Calm down," snapped the Frenchwoman giving the warning, who even grabbed the pistol and glared angrily to get her fractious companion to stop and glare back for a minute. "There are _at least_ a dozen of them."

"We've got plenty of bullets-"

"We need to _leave_ ," said the blonde, shaking her head firmly. "If we slip into the woods, we can get out from under their eyes and loop back around toward Pretoria. Do you fancy taking on a couple stun lancers and a _muton_?"

"A muton?" That did give Mariah pause. She'd seen a muton once, when her mother dragged her to an Advent parade in Miami. Before everything went to hell, of course. "Big and green and all?"

" _Oui_. Big and green." The blonde had an old-beyond-her-years look in her haunted eyes, Mariah thought, with only a passing acknowledgement that she herself didn't have nearly as many of those years. Charlotte had just shown up out of the blue one day, on the run and looking for somewhere to lay low on her way to a Resistance Haven. Mariah knew a few Havens, and they'd been kicking around together since, trying to hunt down the ones that hadn't been obliterated and hadn't quietly packed up after too long in one spot. Sometimes it was hard to tell which fate had befallen one set of ruins or the next, so thorough were the runaways at destroying anything they didn't need.

"Well...we can..." Mariah glanced around the workshop. "We've got some kerosene-"

"Idiot!" Charlotte grabbed Mariah's arm and frogmarched her toward the door. "We need to _leave_ , not die heroically!"

"What's wrong with dying heroically?" Mariah was seventeen and ready to prove it - _it_ being a very nebulous and universal concept. If it could be proved, Mariah was here to do the proving.

"I have far too much to pay back to throw myself away being stupid." That was logic that penetrated Mariah's world, and she couldn't very well argue with it. To her, Advent was capable of any atrocity.

"Well..." Mariah reclaimed the gun. "Give me that. And find yours. We'll try and make it out to the river and across. Mutons don't like water much at all."

"It is worth an attempt."

With that ringing endorsement, Mariah led the way to the back of the burned-out house they'd temporarily claimed. Pistol in one hand, she forged her way into the ankle-high grass, brown hair falling in curls while she hunted for targets.

"Go," she urged, not seeing any black-clad figures and not altogether sure how she felt about that. "Let's move!"

They scurried for the treeline. Darkness was falling, but Advent had never been very disturbed by that. Night vision gear was a thing, and far more common on the occupation's side than the rebels'. The lengthening shadows would likely hinder the escapees far more than their pursuit.

"I hear engines," Charlotte muttered. Mariah listened.

"I don't."

"You're not listening hard enough. Aircraft engines." Charlotte had her gun, all right, and she flattened herself against the first tree they reached. She knelt, trying to peek out behind them. "Someone's almost on us. The soldiers I saw weren't in a transport."

"More of them?" That didn't bother Mariah as much as it did Charlotte. "The more of them there are, the more ground they'll try to cover. They'll spread thin and give us a chance to escape."

"There are so many things wrong with that..." But Charlotte didn't elaborate, even when Mariah angrily cleared her throat. Instead, she frowned. "I don't hear it anymore. We should get moving again."

"We wouldn't have stopped, except for you." Mariah sulked. "It's not my fault."

"Move." Charlotte might have rolled her eyes. That almost made her companion snap at her. In fact, it would have, if-

"Advent!" Mariah cried instead, as the dark figures of soldiers came into view up the low rise angling for the house. She brought up her pistol and-

"No, wait!" Charlotte cried, an instant too late to prevent Mariah squeezing the trigger.

"Yes!" she crowed, as her target stumbled. She fired again, and again, and the soldier collapsed, yellow spraying. His fellows dove to the ground, and Mariah whooped, the sound louder and more feral even than the thunder-cracks of her pistol's report. She turned to Charlotte. "Did you see that? How long the range was?"

"You... _you_..." Charlotte lapsed into French for a long moment. Mariah frowned. It didn't sound happy.

"You should be shooting at them, not yelling at me-"

"They _hadn't seen us!_ " Charlotte shouted, and Mariah froze. "And you just fixed that good and proper, didn't you?"

* * *

" _Donut!_ " repeated the Advent officer facing Jiaying. She snapped her hands up in a flash.

"No problem!" she cried, grinding to a halt, eyes flicking to the half-dozen soldiers following their red-caped leader. "Not a problem, not at all. I'm cooperating! Don't shoot me!" It wasn't that Jiaying was a coward, she thought. She just had a moral objection to dying for absolutely no point whatsoever.

"Drop the bag!" cried the officer, in heavily accented Italian. Fortunately, Jiaying had picked up a decent smattering of the language over the last two years - definitely enough for today. Her bag hit the dirt with a _thump_ and nary a whimper of protest from her lips. A gun appeared in her face. "Down, with your hands behind your head!"

"Of course!" she agreed, interlacing her fingers and kneeling. "Yes, sir. Whatever you say, sir."

Someone grabbed her hands from behind, and Jiaying waited while she was cuffed with quick efficiency. She wanted to kick herself. Why hadn't she waited one more night for the commander to hare off on whatever the next stupid thing he got obsessed with would turn out to be? The local garrison post was hardly a model of the Elders' efficiency. If she'd been a _little_ more patient...

"Up." Her captor pulled her to her feet, while his friends fanned out in a protective circle. "Walk."

"I'm walking, I'm walking!" Jiaying bit her tongue after that, trying not to fall over as the soldier clutching her arm set a blistering pace. The officer led the group, and his troops converged on him, talking among themselves in that ugly language. Jiaying kept her eyes down, not wanting to give them a reason to shoot her.

She stumbled as her holder again sped up. She yelped as that rock she'd met earlier loomed, and she barely kept her footing upon reacquainting herself with it.

"Please," she started. "I need a minute to get my balance-"

He yanked even harder. Jiaying yelped as this time it was too much, and she crashed down on her face in the dirt. With her hands tied, she couldn't even catch herself, and blood burst from her nose. She spat it and dust alike out, risking a glare at her captor's boot. The other soldiers kept moving, chortling and chuckling, while the holder let out an aggrieved noise and leaned down.

Jiaying saw it an instant before the officer did. It hadn't been there when she'd last come by...had it?

 _No_ , the engineer decided. _No, I would have noticed a grenade sitting in the middle of the roadway_.

"Hold!" The officer held up a hand. He knelt to examine the little circular device. Maybe it wasn't a grenade. It certainly didn't _look_ like any grenade Jiaying had ever seen, but somehow, that was all she could imagine it to be. But the officer wouldn't be down there if it was...

Then she saw the little irregularity in the bushes: a gun muzzle poking out from full concealment, and all at once, she understood.

Jiaying shut her eyes as the rifle barked.

The explosion ripped through the patrol in a flash. Jiaying didn't see it, but shrapnel eviscerated four soldiers and hurled them in at least three times as many chunks every which way. The officer rolled away from the blast, howling and clutching his injured shoulder but still alive. That left two Advent soldiers: the first hovering over Jiaying protectively, the other turning to the trees.

" _Mor balaten!_ " cried the officer, surging to his feet as Jiaying screamed. She coughed, spitting out ash and trying to clear her eyes as dust and smoke rose from the remains of the explosive in the roadway. The stink of torn flesh flowed around her, and the acrid, alcoholic tang of yellow Advent blood. It smelled like a fire in a hospital: clean, crisp, sterile, and charred and blackened.

"Over there!" The soldier holding her pointed, and his fellow opened fire into the trees. Jiaying coughed again, looking for the agent who had made such a mess of the patrol-

 _Whum!_

That had to come from a different sector of trees. It _had_ to, because the yellow gore hurled by the bullet that tore up the soldier's forehead and exploded the back of his helmet didn't coat Jiaying. Angles were something that made sense to her, even if she hadn't seen the shot.

And that noise did _not_ sound like a gun. It was something different from your run-of-the-mill rifle - if Jiaying didn't know better, it almost would have sounded like an Adventer's own mag-weapon.

"Show yourself!" the captain cried, proving how little imagination he had. Jiaying almost snorted.

She didn't, because he then proved how much imagination he _did_ have by putting his gun to her head where she knelt.

"Don't shoot!" she cried. She turned her eyes down, struggling to raise her bound hands. "Please, I'm cooperating-"

"Come out!" the captain repeated. "Come out or we shoot her!" He didn't even glance at his companion, flanking Jiaying from the other side.

"Yes, well. About that."

Jiaying's gaze whipped to the soldier. The officer turned too, and for just a moment, his gun wasn't pointed at her.

"Ow!" Jiaying hit the ground and rolled, coughing and feeling what she imagined to be an indentation in her chest from where the soldier had kicked her. Speaking of him, she could only stare as with one hand he caught the officer's rifle, holding it down toward the ground. From his other wrist, blades sprouted, and in a flash, the soldier drove them into the officer's chin from below.

" _Vox tala_ ," he muttered, almost conversationally, " _for Ten_."

"My God." Jiaying stared as the officer finally dropped, and the soldier flicked yellow blood off his wrist-blades. "You...you just..."

"Doctor Shen?" That was a woman, storming from the trees with a strange rifle over her shoulder. Jiaying made the mistake of trying to look her in the eyes, and she gasped when she did: all she saw were glowing yellow eyepieces on a full-face helmet; about as good of an approximation of a demon as existed outside of a chryssalid hive.

"You must be my contact." Jiaying Shen let the woman - she _had_ to be a Reaper! - help her to her knees, then waited while she drew a knife and knelt, working over her zip-tie. Jiaying let out a nervous laugh. "I didn't think you'd try to blow me up..."

"Draguonva. Sergeant Dragunova." The sergeant stood, zip-tie cut, and took Jiaying's hand. She pulled the shorter woman to her feet. "And there was never any risk of that. The soldiers formed a living shield for you."

"So they did." Jiaying glanced at the turncoat soldier. "Lucky for you I fell down, I guess. It let them get ahead."

"So it did, and luck had nothing to do with it." The soldier reached up and removed his helmet, and Jiaying felt a shiver as she took in his scarred and tattooed face. "Sergeant Pratal Mox, at your service, Doctor Shen. I apologize for pushing you so hard, but I needed you to fall behind." He paused. "Let me see your nose."

"Oh." Jiaying had entirely forgotten it was bleeding. She waited while Mox produced a handkerchief and dabbed at the blood over her upper lip. "That's...that's kind of you."

"Think nothing of it."

"Let's move, you two." Dragunova might have been amused. She might not have, too; Jiaying didn't think much amused any Reaper. "We need to get to the safehouse until _Avenger_ finishes up with that business in Africa."

"Safehouse?" Jiaying liked that word a lot. Then her curiosity got the better of her. "What business in Africa?"

* * *

" _Mor balaten!_ " cried the leader of the Advent patrol - pointing right at Mariah. " _Hug that shit!_ "

"Shit. Shit!" Mariah fired, and at least this time Charlotte joined her. Bullets flew, and the Advent soldiers who hadn't already ducked did so now, diving into cover and flattening themselves. "I'm sorry-"

"If we live through this, I'm slapping you!" Charlotte probably meant it, too. Mariah winced.

"I didn't mean to-"

"Run!" Charlotte cried, bolting deeper into the forest as her magazine went dry. Mariah gulped when her gun _clicked_ a second later. Scrambling for another mag, she tore after her older companion, swearing under her breath.

 _Father wouldn't have made that mistake_ , she berated herself on the one hand.

 _It's not my fault_ , she defended herself on the other. _I panicked. Everyone panics!_

It was hot and muggy, even with night coming on. Bugs flew and whined all around, and Mariah couldn't help from smacking at them, even knowing what was coming. Her feet tangled in the undergrowth, and she spent more time than she'd have liked leaning on trees and trying to force her way forward.

"Keep up!" Charlotte called. She hesitated on the other side of a clearing. "River's not far."

"Go!" Mariah ordered. She glanced over her shoulder. "I'll...I'll slow them-"

"Mariah-"

 _Roar!_

"Oh, shit." The sound of an angry muton obliterated Mariah's ill-advised teenage glory-seeking courage, and she let out a sound that was a lot less coherent and a lot more shrill than the beast's battle cry. Mariah dropped her pistol and bolted, nearly bending over as she tore for the river line.

"Hang in there!" Charlotte was beside her, smacking branches aside and ducking others. A high-pitched whine filled the air, and Mariah nearly wailed.

"More of them," she gasped, red tinting her vision and her legs shaking with terror. "There's a whole dropship back there dropping _more_ in-"

"Then you'd better run faster!" Charlotte ground to a halt ironically soon after snapping that. Her boots literally skidded in the dirt, throwing up a little spray. Mariah was not nearly so observant, and she ran right over the edge of the little rock drop and very well did shriek now.

"Fuck!" She crashed on her hands and knees in eight-inch deep brown water. Her arms jarred and her knees cried out as she skinned them. Was it her imagination, or could that motion be a crocodile? Were there crocodiles around here?

"Mariah, get up!" Charlotte pulled her to her feet, questions about ecology notwithstanding. "We need to get across, and quickly."

"Right." Mariah swallowed. "We'll just-"

 _Bang! Bang! Bang!_

Mariah screamed as red light filled the trees. Gunfire exploded on all sides, and the heavy stomping of what had to be a MEC. Advent shouts filled the air, harsh and angry on her ears.

"Hang on!" Charlotte caught her around the waist, and the brunette barely had time to suck in breath before the blonde pitched them both into the water.

For a moment, all was quiet under the brown liquid. Mariah's shoulder hit the bottom, and she let out a yelp and a burst of bubbles as it lit up with pain. She didn't _think_ it was broken, but that didn't prove anything. She couldn't see Charlotte, and the blonde's hand wasn't on her any more. Mariah turned for the surface.

Something big splashed into the water not far away. Whatever it was thrashed...and then went still very quickly. Mariah shivered. She stayed under.

The red glowing overhead came to a halt. Advent must have realized they couldn't shoot the women if they didn't see them. Mariah clutched a rock on the bottom, hoping to keep her air long enough Advent would move on without letting herself drift away. She held on tight, eyes shut, trying to stay as low to the bottom as possible.

Seconds turned to minutes. Mariah prayed.

 _Boom!_ That wasn't an explosive, but the sound of someone dropping into the water. Mariah nearly inhaled, checking herself at the last minute. She waited, listening to the amplified noise of footsteps on the bottom of the waist-deep water.

 _I can't stay under for long_ , she realized, as her lungs burned. _And whoever that is...I think he's coming right_ -

A foot hit Mariah in the side. She cried out, and bubbles rose in a sudden flash. Mariah turned, trying to push away, but a hand shot down through the surface in a flash, and she screamed as it caught her collar.

Mariah burst to the surface, choking and gasping. She spat brown riverwater even as more ran from the ends of her hair and off her arms. She grabbed for the hand holding her up, crying out as her captor dragged her toward land. With hair and water in her eyes, she couldn't see.

"Wait," she gasped, without any particular idea why the Advent soldier should do any such thing. "Let me go-"

Whoever it was did, and Mariah landed on her rear at the edge of the river. She coughed up a bit more water, brushing soaking hair to the side.

"Bit of a strange time for a swim," a woman observed. Mariah frowned.

"Who..."

"Be fair. Pretty hot out today." That was a man, and Mariah's head swiveled. He loomed at the edge of the river, overtop the coughing form of Charlotte. "Probably a good way to cool off, huh?"

"Who are you?" Mariah demanded, looking from him to the woman before her. She rapidly discovered this one to be a redhead, wearing the strangest black armor and with the most unusual weapon slung over her shoulder. "What happened to the soldiers after us?"

"Being chased by them, were you?" The redhead raised an eyebrow. "So, I imagine there's a price on you with Advent, then. We could be rich."

"No, wait, that's not...I didn't..." Mariah swallowed. "It's not like that!"

"Isn't it?" The redhead chuckled. "Gave yourself away, kid."

"I remember you!" Charlotte looked up at the redhead with wonder, then over at the man. "From Switzerland, a month ago."

"What?" The man frowned. Mariah fully acknowledged his Australian accent for the first time. "Switzerland...wait." He eyed Charlotte again. "Were you one of those-"

"The black site. In the cells." Charlotte rose, and Mariah hesitantly mirrored her. "You rescued me. And all the others."

"Did I?" The Australian blinked.

"We. Us." That was the redhead. Mariah glanced at her...and couldn't tear her gaze away, not when she saw those vivid purple eyes. " _We_ did, David. I remember her."

"You're who we've been looking for," Mariah gasped, probably only a minute or two behind Charlotte. "You're... _XCOM_."

"Disciple Richardson, at your service." The redhead clapped Mariah's shoulder. "You can call me Julie. Everyone does."

"The soldiers." Mariah pointed back at the trees. "There's...there's a muton with them-"

"He ate Junior's fist," David explained, which didn't help much at all.

"...Junior?" Mariah blinked.

"Our pet robot." Julie beamed. "Point being, the soldiers are dead or we'd never have had time to look for you." She tugged, leading Mariah out of the water. "Now, I'm going to go out on a limb and assume you two are the wannabe soldiers we've heard so much about lately, and you'd like to come on back to Lieutenant Quinn with us for extraction."

"Oh, yeah!" Mariah cried. She winced a moment later. "I mean...yes, ma'am."

"Better... _rookie_." Julie glanced to make sure David and Charlotte were following, then hopped up into the trees. "You'd better believe the Commander's just dying to meet you."

* * *

 **Author's Note 26: Honey, I'm Home**

Hi, everyone! I'm still alive! Through no fault of my own. Cars are awful things, but it was just a tire - and a bearing - at the end of the day. Bleh.

I also recently(at the time of this writing) celebrated my birthday - 23 - and as a present I'm trying to get back to work. This winter has been kicking my ass, so maybe a bit of VC is what I need to get the ball rolling again for more professional work. I started a new game of XCOM 2 just the other day, and I have a rough outline for Season Two. We'll see how closely I follow it.

Jiaying Shen harkens back to a game of EW I played a long time ago, where I got a rookie with the last name Shen. I wondered if it was Dr. Shen's daughter/niece/whatever at the time. I've quite forgotten what her first name was in the playthrough, but I intend to explore a bit of "what could have been" with this.

If there is interest, I've considered making some of the characters from the fic in the character creator and taking screenshots, just to help people with what everyone looks like. If that sounds like fun, let me know in the reviews and I can look into it. If not, less work for me is fine!

Until next time, _Vigilo Confido_.


	27. Avatar

_Please remember to favorite and follow!_

* * *

 _"_ _In the sweetness of friendship let there be laughter, and sharing of pleasures. For in the dew of little things the heart finds its morning and is refreshed_ _."_

 _~Khalil Gibran_

* * *

 **Chapter Twenty-seven: Avatar**

"Four." _Thump-thump-thump-thump_.

"All right." John Bradford leaned back, rubbing his chin. "Hit us."

Silence. Eyes turned furtively around the table as some of the most consequential men and women in the world waited, breathless, for the forthcoming proclamation.

"Did you know..." Edward Gallant, Commander of the Extra-Terrestrial Combat Unit, formerly of the United States Army, leaned forward, steeping his fingers. "Did you know that soda cans are pressure sealed by the carbonated gases inside the drinks put inside them?"

"I'm sure we're very interested," Lily Shen replied, pausing to glance at the ceiling. "But-"

"This leads to a problem when the cans are made to contain liquids that are not carbonated. Take, for example, lemonade." Gallant nodded decisively. "The can can't very well be sealed with carbonated pressure that doesn't exist. Do you know how they do it?"

"No," grunted the brunette directly across the table. "But I bet you're about to tell us, aren't you?"

"I am, Captain Kelly." Gallant beamed. "See, they need to-"

"They put a drop of liquid nitrogen inside the can and seal it." Richard Tygan eyed his superior over his fanned cards. "Commander, make your suggestion and stop holding the game up."

Silence. Gallant made a rumbling noise in the back of his throat.

"Miss Scarlett," he finally posited, which made Jane Kelly stick her tongue out. "With the rope. In the ballroom."

"Joke's on you." Bradford flashed a card, and Gallant examined it for a moment, even if Shen, Tygan, and Kelly all had the grace to play the game right and look away.

"Thank you, John." Gallant marked the rope off on his datapad. "I mean, thank you, Colonel."

"Professor." Bradford glanced to Lily. "Your turn, Peacock."

The engineer swept up the die and cast it, and Gallant turned to examine his own cards as she moved. For a minute, there was relative silence as the turns went around the table.

"I'm not rolling." Jane slipped the red token across the board. "I'll take the passage to the conservatory."

"Oh, joy." Bradford glanced at his cards. "Well, Captain?"

"The Professor." Jane glared mightily at Gallant, who chuckled.

"Watch yourself, soldier. Thin ice, accusing your commanding officer of _murder_."

"With the revolver, because he's old-fashioned like that." Jane snorted. "What is this, 1800?"

"That's hardly fair," Bradford objected. "The debate of revolving chambers versus semi-automatic magazines actually continued well into the twenty-first century, especially in law enforcement circles. Revolvers were seen as more reliable to a lot of people-"

"Central..." Jane coughed. "I think you should-"

"Shut up, John," Gallant chimed in, and everyone snickered. "Just tell him, Kelly."

"Can't, sir. He's my commanding officer, too." Jane cleared her throat. "As I said: the Commander did it with the revolver, right here in the-"

The door chimed. Gallant paused.

"It's game night," he muttered. "The hell's gone wrong on _game night_?" He blew air through his teeth. "The _one night_ we don't spend trying to blow up half a planet..."

"Come in." Bradford stood. "I'll handle it, sir. You all continue without me for a minute." He glanced at his cards. "I'm useless to the Captain this round anyway."

"Right." Gallant examined his own hand. He waited for Shen or Tygan to exonerate him, but neither of them moved either.

"Really?" Jane frowned. " _Really_?"

"What is it?" Bradford opened the door. "What's gone wrong?"

"Sir." That was Sylvie Richard's voice, and Gallant couldn't resist turning to watch her snap to attention. Her hair was still half-white between the bleaching of power and the work of midnight dye, giving the Commander the impression of a skunk. But he would never say as much, because Sylvie's eyes glowed with violet power just like Julie Richardson's now. If the Frenchwoman didn't find a way to get Gallant back, the redhead certainly would.

"At ease." Bradford waved her down. "Report."

"Firebrand just checked in at Waypoint Five. Lieutenant Quinn reports no casualties, and they've got both the wannabes in tow." Sylvie looked a bit relieved at being able to say all that. Gallant couldn't blame her - Julie didn't seem to have quite figured out that the ship's junior psi-op had a crush, but that made her the only person on or off the ship who hadn't.

 _That's not true_ , Gallant decided. _I don't think Sylvie's one hundred percent sure either_. He wanted to laugh. _Young idiots, unable to open their mouths and talk about it!_

He sobered a moment later as he remembered his own case of young idiocy and a closed mouth. Without thinking, he brought his hand up to his breast pocket and the picture he kept there.

"And that's all?" By Bradford's tone, it had better _not_ be all. "Sounds like things are routine. We're in the middle of something."

"A team-building exercise," Jane Kelly agreed. "Building trust and friendship among murderers." If she recognized what a powerful statement it was that she was here with the command crew when no other enlisted soldier was, she didn't show it.

"Well, _oui_." Sylvie coughed. "I am sorry, but we have a transmission coming through."

"Do we?" Now it was Gallant's time. He reached for his cane, then stood with an irritated grunt. "What kind of transmission? Volk? Betos?"

"Commander..." Sylvie seemed torn about whether to salute him, too. In the end, she settled for straightening up again. "Commander, it's from the Shadow Man."

Gallant's face smoothed into nonexpression. His voice didn't, and he let out an angry set of mumbled curses.

"One night," he demanded. "Couldn't he have kept himself busy for _one_ night?" He brushed on without waiting for anyone to reply. "Screw it. I've got to deal with this."

"I'll come with you, Commander-"

"No, John. You lot play a round or two among yourselves." Gallant clapped the XO on the shoulder. He glanced back at his people. "Watch out for Scarlett. She's a hellion."

"And proud of it." She looked a lot more concerned than she sounded. Shadow Man hadn't been supposed to contact them for another two weeks.

"Right." Gallant took a breath. "Have fun, and don't drink too much without me." He turned for the door. "Deal yourself in, Sylvie. Clue seats six." He stumped past her. "And you've got the hair for Mrs. White all set to go!"

* * *

Gallant made sure the door to his office was locked before he went to settle. The red light flashing on his terminal indicated someone was on hold, but with his impairment he wanted to be sure he had everything right before picking up.

"Picking up," he muttered, as he went to all the lights and turned them off. "Your age is showing, Edward. No one picks up phones anymore." He cleared his throat as he finally settled down before the terminal. "That was a dated reference in your own time."

He let out a quick breath, then straightened. Gently, he reached out to flick one more light switch, and then he was ready.

"All right," Gallant muttered. He hit the proper button, and waited as the security encryption screen popped up. "Let's talk."

The locks clicked: one for each type of encryption. Gallant waited as all ten worked their way through, then tried not to breathe in as the screen dissolved momentarily into static. Light filtered in, then darkness. Then...

" _Hello, Commander_." Shadow Man sat in his usual position, lights out save for the one behind his head, wreathed in so much darkness Gallant couldn't possibly recognize him if he saw the man every waking day. The spokesman for the Resistance paused for a moment, and Gallant imagined what was going on in his head.

"Hello," Gallant said, resisting the urge to wave. He steeped his fingers. "John's idea."

" _They say imitation is the sincerest form of flattery_." Shadow Man might have been amused. Gallant, not a fan of sitting in the dark for the sake of looking mysterious, hoped so. " _Your morale must have taken a serious boost after Switzerland. I don't recall the last time you made a joke_."

"Like I said, John's idea." Gallant grinned. "We match."

" _I fear I am the bearer of bad news, Commander_."

"As usual."

That might have made Shadow Man chuckle, but it was hard to tell, as gravelly as his voice was. " _It would seem your recent activities have gotten Advent's attention._

" _Our unwelcome guests are on the move_."

A map appeared. Gallant wasn't sure what he was looking at, watching little icons congregate in various global locations, but he didn't have to wait long. Shadow Man kept talking.

" _Advent has been diverting considerable resources and personnel to hidden facilities across the globe. The exact details of these operations are classified at the highest level, but they all have one thing in common. A single word that appears in every file: Avatar_."

Gallant breathed out slowly as an Advent sigil appeared on screen. But there was something slightly different about it - something that he couldn't define at a glance, but that gave this symbol Importance with a capital I.

"Why now?" Gallant asked. "What's changed all of a sudden that makes them put more effort behind this project _now_?"

" _You, Commander._ " Shadow Man's voice was level as always, but that sent a tingle up Gallant's spine. " _I believe the black site in Switzerland was merely one of many installations dedicated to work on this Avatar Project. With its destruction, the aliens have realized time is not on their side._ " He might have exhaled. " _And based on what we have uncovered, the Project's scope is far greater than we had previously imagined possible_."

"Why?" Gallant narrowed his eyes. "What's the purpose?"

" _We do not know, Commander. This project's source is in the highest level of the Advent administration - all my attempts to identify whom have met with failure_." He reappeared on screen, shrouded in blackness, and Gallant saw Purpose in his bearing. " _It is time to take a more direct approach_."

"Direct how?" Gallant swallowed. "Sir, I can't do a great deal with nothing. If we don't know what they're doing, we can't-"

" _Though we may not know the exact nature of this Avatar Project, we can still disrupt it by striking its critical infrastructure_ ," Shadow Man pointed out. Gallant chewed on that for a moment, then nodded. " _With the help of local Resistance cells, we can find these Avatar Project facilities - these black sites - and destroy them. In the process, we can uncover the truth of the Project's purpose. Uncover the source...and then destroy_ it _, too_."

Gallant hesitated. "You're asking a lot. My men have been through hell already."

" _You are up to the challenge, Commander, as are your forces._ " Shadow Man leaned forward. " _And we have no choice. Were the enemy to succeed in their efforts, I have no doubt it would mean the end for all of mankind._ " That statement left a chill in its wake, like an angry winter gust. Gallant whistled.

"So it's like that?"

" _I am confident you will take whatever measures are necessary to eliminate this threat, Commander_." That was a yes, then. Gallant sighed.

"Sir-"

" _Good luck_."

"Wait-" Gallant swore as the screen went blank. He leaned back, glaring at the ceiling. "Man doesn't believe in ' _good-bye, Commander_ ', does he?" He did a terrible job of mimicking Shadow Man's voice, but it was the thought that counted.

Silence infested the darkened room for a long minute. Then...

"Tygan!" Gallant hit the intercom button, and he imagined everyone in the staff room jumping as his voice exploded around them. "You and Shen, my office, now. John, I want you on the bridge. Firebrand's on her way back in. You and Kelly flag her in and get everyone rested. Sylvie, get your ass to the psi-lab."

" _Sir_..." That was Bradford, hitting his own com. " _Sir, what's kicked off?_ "

"War, John," Gallant replied, clutching the arms of his chair. "We're going to all-out war footing."

* * *

"Here they are." Jane waited at Bradford's side while the hangar lift hissed and whirred. "Little late."

"Must have gotten held up skirting around the air defenses in Nigeria." Bradford took things like that for granted. He _knew_ things like that, no matter what question you asked. You asked Jane, she wasn't entirely sure she could tell you the difference between Nigeria and Niger - and they _were_ both countries, right? Her world had been very insular before XCOM, and she'd been all of eleven years old when the invasion started, which hardly made for the best pre-war education possible even if she'd been born to a rich family.

Rich. Her parents would have laughed so hard at that thought, but Jane's memories of comfortable middle-class life in Ireland certainly felt only a step or two down from the lifestyle of the rich and famous. Never worrying about water or food...knowing you'd have a bed to sleep in...

"It was like being on the _Avenger_ ," she decided under her breath. "Just fewer chryssalids."

The Skyranger descended into view, bay doors already open, and Jane had to smile when she saw the team leader, waving her troops off.

"Lieutenant!" Jane waved, and after a moment, Aileen Quinn waved back.

"Captain!" She hurried over, rifle slung over her shoulder and Nessie the GREMLIN buzzing around in her wake. She paused to salute, and Jane coughed.

"That's really not necessary..."

"It's not for you, Irish, but your vanity is noted." While Jane coughed again in a different sort of way, Aileen's attention went right to Bradford. "Sir: zero casualties, a full Advent patrol down for the count, and both VIPs recovered."

"Good show, Lieutenant." Bradford returned the salute. "The team?"

"Disembarking." Aileen lowered her hand after the XO did, then glanced back to the other soldiers. "Richardson kicked ass, as usual, and Junior's always great to have around when mutons get irritated."

"I'll tell Shen you said that." Bradford crossed his arms. "When we're done here, get everyone a meal and some sleep. I don't think we're going to have a lot of rest for a while."

"Sir." Aileen nodded. "Firebrand had some concerns about fuel, and the number two engine's..."

Jane tuned her out. She started forward, adjusting her baseball cap, as the fourth member of the strike team finally disembarked.

"Well, you're not dead yet." The Irishwoman gave him a jaunty smile. "More's the pity."

"I know. You're still stuck with me." David White came to a halt at the base of the ramp, smirking down her way. Jane, hardly a tiny woman, liked having to crane her neck to meet his eyes. "You'll have to do a better job sabotaging my gear next time."

"No promises." Jane clapped him on the shoulder - she had a feeling Bradford would object to a hug or a kiss in the hangar bay while technically on duty. Bradford was funny about things like that. "Tell me all about it over a drink?"

"Two drinks, your tab."

"I'll buy you _one_ ," Jane insisted, and her next clap was more of a whack. "I don't like you _that_ much."

"True love." Julie passed them with a smirk she did a very bad job of hiding. "You two are disgusting."

"Oh, yeah?" Jane glared. "Just you wait! I'll remember that when it's you!"

"Makes me glad there's no one hanging around pining for me, in that case." The redhead carried blithely on in her unaware haze. "I'm off to the psi-lab. I'll see you later."

"Psi-lab, she says." David eyed her speculatively. "I bet her other half's already there."

"Oh, hush." Jane shoved him. "It's kind of adorable the way they're the only two who don't have a clue in the world that they're chasing each other. Don't spoil it."

"All right." Bradford and Aileen came over, and Jane hurriedly took a half-step back from David's side. The XO gave her a look, but it wasn't warning...overtly, at least. "Where are the wannabes?"

"Hang on." Aileen hurried half-up the ramp. "Moineau! Mariah!"

" _Oui_ , here." Out came a blonde. Jane had to stare for a long moment before she realized-

"You!" She put her hands on her hips. "From the black site!"

" _Oui_ ," the blonde repeated. She looked worse for wear, with fresh cuts on her cheeks and chin and skinned elbows, with tattered clothes and greasy hair - but even with all of that, she looked a hundred times better than she had the last time the pair had seen each other in Switzerland. "My name is Charlotte Moineau. I am from Paris. I _was_."

"Charlotte, huh?" Bradford offered his hand. "You're not technically a rookie yet, so I won't make you salute. If you were in the black site..." He shook his head slowly. "There's war, and then there's genocide."

"I only wish Evangeline had been able to escape with us." Charlotte's eyes darkened. "She was my friend."

"I'm sorry." Jane kicked at the deck. "I didn't...we tried..."

"It is not your fault. I do not blame you." Charlotte's eyes blazed. "I very well _do_ blame others. I have never been a violent woman, nor an angry one - but I am angrier than I have ever been now, and violence seems to have much to recommend it."

"Now you're talking!" Out bounced another figure: a brunette a good bit shorter than Jane, with curly hair falling around her shoulders. She had to be young - _had_ to be! She had so much energy to her peppy stride, and she skidded to a halt at the base of the ramp with the biggest grin. "So, this is the _Avenger_?"

"Yes." Jane eyed her contemplatively. "You must be Mariah."

"Oh, yes, that's me." She hesitantly saluted. "You look like an officer."

"Well, there's a reason for that." Jane left it there: Captain Kelly or not, she felt more like a jumped-up team leader than a member of the Command Staff. Instead, the Irishwoman turned. "Charlotte, Mariah, this is Central Officer Bradford. He's the number-two man in the entire organization, and if you want to get anywhere, you'll have to impress him. That's how I got on the ship."

"Oh." Mariah's tanned face paled remarkably quickly. " _Oh_."

"Relax: I'm not the devil, just his right-hand man." Bradford produced a datapad, humming a few bars of a song the phrase must have put in his head. "Let's knock out a few quick things, then I'll send you off for food and sleep. You first." He turned to Charlotte. "Full name?"

"Charlotte Moineau."

"French, yes?"

" _Oui_." She shrugged. "Unless vacationing in Italy and later South Africa counts as a nationality?"

Bradford chuckled. "Anything you want us to bear in mind? Medical history, known relatives and what they might be doing..."

Charlotte shook her head. "I do not know how good of a shot I am liable to be, but I imagine you have ways of teaching things like that."

"If we didn't, we'd be a terrible military." Bradford nodded. "All right, _madame_ -"

" _Mademoiselle_ , please."

Jane smirked. Bradford cleared his throat.

"Sorry. Did Spanish, not French." He actually looked embarrassed. " _Mademoiselle_ , then."

"You speak _Spanish_?" Aileen asked, raising an eyebrow.

"Spanish, a bit of Chinese, a bit of Russian, and a lot more Farsi than I ever thought I'd learn before I went overseas." Bradford turned. "All right. Let's get you recorded, then you're off. Name?"

"M...Mariah." She left it at that.

"Full name," Jane reminded her. Mariah swallowed.

"Um..."

"What's the problem?" Jane frowned. "We need it for record purposes."

"I just...well..." She coughed, then reached up to curl her hair around her finger. "I...I don't..."

"Soldier!" Bradford's voice was sharp, sharp enough Mariah jumped, yelped, and snapped right to attention. "There are no secrets on this ship, _rookie_. Full name, now!"

"Sir!" She didn't quite seem to know what to do after that. "Well, sir..."

" _Now_ ," Bradford insisted, crossing his arms. "What the devil are you afraid of, girl?"

"...Bradford." It came out almost as a whisper. "Mariah Bradford...Dad."

* * *

 **Author's Note 27: Cans**

My father is a mechanical engineer working in the beverage canning industry. Not only is Gallant correct, but that is a pretty good adaptation of sitting down and playing a game with my dad. He's the closest thing in real life to an Omnidisciplinary Scientist(seriously, he can talk you in circles in theoretical physics, electrical and mechanical engineering, chemistry, history, and almost any related disciplines, not to mention sci-fi literature and movies), and he loves dropping trivia at random points. I know more about the can-making world than most of you will ever care to learn, and that's just from proximity. He is the real-life Dr. Shen Sr. from XCOM: Enemy Unknown, part of why I like Shen so much.

So of course his son is a starving artist. Follows, doesn't it?

Anyone with an understanding of the English language should have a good idea of what the Avatar Project is on its name alone. I'm surprised Shadow Man and Bradford - to say nothing of Tygan - don't put it together early on in the game, and it takes 20 hours of gameplay to get to the point where people admit they know what it is. Then again, my perspective on "understanding the English language" is a bit different from most people's. I won't say I'm in love with big words, but it's rare that you hit a word or rule I don't know, at least on paper. I might elaborate more on that later.

Finally, the elephant in the room: Mariah exists. That's all I'm prepared to say right now. Enjoy the searing, world-breaking twist and I'll flesh things out next time.

Until then, _Vigilo Confido_.


	28. Family

_Please remember to favorite and follow!_

* * *

 _"_ _The general who wins the battle makes many calculations in his temple before the battle is fought. The general who loses makes but few calculations beforehand_ _."_

 _~Sun Tzu_

* * *

 **Chapter Twenty-eight: Family**

"Mariah. _Bradford_." Commander Edward Gallant gave the other Bradford one hell of a glare. "Is there a particular reason this twist comes dropping in from the sky _now_?"

"Sir." Bradford hung on the edge of his seat, twiddling his fingers in a most un-Bradfordlike way. "I didn't have a clue, sir."

"You didn't?" Gallant let out a long breath. "You'd better explain a few things."

"Sir, it's been twenty years since XCOM fell." Bradford shrugged. "Twenty years, sir. I went on a date once or twice."

"Fair." Gallant had to yield that. "What _do_ you know?"

"She's got to take more after her mother than me. If she hadn't said anything, I never would have thought we were related." A haunted light flew into Bradford's eyes. No, _haunted_ was the wrong word. It was more like... _reverent_. "Sir, this is as much of a shocker for me as it is for you. I...I have a _daughter_."

"Hang on." Gallant leaned down, fished in his drawer, and a moment later pulled out the necessary tools for the problem at hand. A moment later, he handed the assembled assistance to his XO.

"That's hardly necessary, sir." But Bradford took the shot anyway. "She's waiting outside. Seems afraid of me."

"Hardly a shocker, John." Gallant poured a drink for himself. "Maybe my experience with fathers is atypical, but I always ducked for cover when the old man stomped through the house."

"You never told me you didn't get along with the Senator."

"Because I got along with him just fine. But there's something about a father who's Someone - with a capital S - that kind of intimidates kids. And that's coming from a son who knew his father from Day One." Gallant shook his head. "She's going to be afraid of you, John, for at least a little while. You're a legend she's heard about in taprooms and havens across the world - she hasn't got the faintest idea of what kind of man the legend really is."

"Legend." Bradford actually looked embarrassed. "I just tried to hold everything together and find you."

"You did a damn fine job," Gallant observed. He cleared his throat a moment later. "All right. You really know nothing?"

"Not really, sir," Bradford agreed. "And I don't...I'm not sure what questions I should ask her. Or if she'd answer them. Or if she really should - it's not pertinent to the war at hand, and I'd never ask any other rookie half the things I want to-"

"That's precisely why I'll take over where you left off," Gallant said. "I want you to check in with the Ring. Dragunova and Mox are late firing off their recovery beacon and I want to know why."

"Yes, sir." Orders gave Bradford purpose. He rose. "And?"

"And I'll deal with Junior out there." Gallant chuckled. "Let me get a feel for her. Once you're off-duty for the day, take her to the bar and try to catch up. Be her father, not her CO."

"I...don't really know how." Bradford knocked the shot back. "But I've never run away from any other challenge in my life. This can't be harder than that time I boxed a muton."

"Damn, John." Gallant did a double-take. "You're made of iron."

"I never said I won." Bradford left the glass behind, saluting before he turned for the door. "I'll get back to you with an update on Jiaying as soon as I can."

"Do that." Gallant waved him away. "Send her in."

The door hissed open. Gallant had about fifteen seconds to himself, and he spent them downing his shot, pouring again, and seriously contemplating that one, too.

"Two of them," he muttered. "Not just two Shens, but two _Bradfords_. What's next? Did Dad survive the purge of Congress and set up in Papua New Guinea these last twenty years?"

He snorted. Two _Gallants_ aboard the _Avenger_ would probably be more than the Resistance could handle. They'd barely acclimatized to one.

"Hello?" There came two nervous eyes, lit up with something akin to fear, in a face that showed more than a little Hispanic heritage, framed by curly brown hair that faintly glinted in the overhead lights.

"You must be Miss Bradford." Gallant took his cane in one hand and the desk in the other, and with more than a little effort he stood, trying not to grunt too loudly.

"That's right. I am." And she didn't seem entirely comfortable with that, the way she lingered across the threshold.

"Come in." Gallant waved. She jumped, as if she hadn't realized she'd never actually entered his office.

"Oh...okay..." She scurried over the line, jumping again when the door hissed shut behind her.

"For the record, Rookie," Gallant observed dryly, "when the Commander issues an order, the proper response is 'yes, sir'."

"Oh, shit!" She turned the most vivid shade of red Gallant had ever seen. "Wait, _shit_...I mean, I didn't mean to curse...I'm...oh, sh-" She cut that one off, visibly gulping. Fear transfixed her and pinned her in place like she expected to be obliterated by Gallant's lightning vision at any moment.

The Commander burst out laughing. He tried very hard to turn it into a coughing fit, but he failed dramatically, and the color in Mariah's cheeks only darkened.

"I'm sorry," she moaned. "I'm so sorry, Commander."

"It's not..." Gallant chortled a moment more, before waving her down. "Don't worry about it, Miss Bradford. I'm not...I'm not laughing _at_ you, I'm just..." He shrugged, still grinning. "Well, I've been dealing with very serious matters for quite a while, and it was nice to let some of the tension out."

"... _oh_." Mariah blinked very seriously, and for a moment Gallant swore he saw her father in her analytical gaze - in the way she took him apart with her eyes to figure out how he worked.

"Edward Gallant," he finally said, offering his hand. He smiled when she took it. "Commander of XCOM, by appointment of the Council."

"Mariah," said she, before wincing. "But you knew that. Sir!"

The pause didn't seem deliberate. Gallant carried right on without acknowledging it. "I know you've got to be nervous."

"No, sir!" That was emphatic enough she _had_ to be trying to save face. "I'm just...I'm very lucky to be here, sir."

"Well, Mariah, if you're your father's daughter by half, I'd say _I'm_ the one who's lucky you're here." Gallant watched her go red again. "How old?"

"Over eighteen, sir." She looked quite serious. "I'm more than old enough."

Gallant frowned, withdrawing his hand. "Lieutenant Quinn's report says you're _seventeen_."

"I..."

Gallant made a noise not even he could quite identify. "Your shoes, kid."

"Sir-"

"Am I going to see a little piece of paper with an eighteen written on it if I order you to take them off?" Gallant asked. "That's what they did in the Civil War."

Mariah hemmed and hawed for a moment. Finally, she cleared her throat. "I read about it in a book, when I was a kid. I thought since you were...you know..."

"Artificially preserved from an older time like a pickle?" Gallant asked. "Figured I'd be a prude about a child soldier?"

"I'm not a child!" Her glare started out brave, but came apart quickly. "Really, I'm not!"

"I heard you fought Advent well in South Africa." Gallant raised a hand soothingly. "And, to be frank, Miss Bradford, I don't really have the luxury of being picky about volunteers. I just want a few things clear first."

"Okay?" She coughed a second later, when Gallant's eyebrow went up a hair. "I mean...yes, sir?"

"Your mother." Gallant eyed her intently. "I assume you have her consent for this?"

"I..." Mariah let out a deep breath. "She's dead. Sir."

"Oh." Gallant tilted his head. "How?"

"Faceless." Mariah swallowed.

"Was she in a Haven or-"

"Sir, if it's all the same..." Mariah coughed. "I'd like to talk about...about something else." She inhaled. "I imagine my father will be asking me all these questions before long, and I don't...I don't like to remember it."

Gallant made a noncommittal noise. "Fair enough, Miss Bradford." He did move along, but not very far. "I can't let you fight without knowing your guardian consented to your enlistment."

"I don't have a guardian." She sounded very certain about that. "I don't need one. I take care of myself."

"Call me old-fashioned," Gallant insisted, "but I wouldn't feel right. If you want to be a soldier, I need you to - at a minimum - get your father's approval." And he was _sure_ Bradford would give it.

"Oh." Mariah swallowed. "I...I guess I'll try to talk to him."

"That's the other thing." Gallant examined her critically. "Why did you seek us out?"

"Huh?"

"Not many people _want_ to join XCOM, not unless they're already Resistance fighters. Most people wind up blown into our ranks." Gallant crossed his arms. "You came looking for your father, didn't you?"

"I want to fight," Mariah protested. "Really, I do! I want to take Advent down and liberate humanity!"

"Maybe." Gallant hummed as he thought about his options. "You're not going to get treated any different from any other rookie on account of who your father is, understood? Don't even _try_ to pull a Malfoy."

"Absolutely." She grinned, perhaps sensing that Gallant was running out of objections. "That's just the way I like it. I don't want to be pampered."

"Good." Gallant spent another moment thinking, then exhaled. "Report to Captain Kelly as soon as you're done here. I'll send her a note that you're on the way. She'll pair you up with a range partner and work you over on Basics."

"Sir!" Mariah's eyes lit up. "Thank you, sir!"

" _Get_ your father's approval. In writing." Gallant sighed, trying resolutely to think of Mariah in literally any other sense than _child soldier_. "Otherwise, I'm..." He hesitated. Was sending her off the ship really any _less_ dangerous than keeping her on the combat roster? The world wasn't the same as it had been in his time, and in dangerous times in bygone days, seventeen was considered perfectly well old enough to fight. Military Trivia Nut John Bradford would have reminded him that plenty of fifteen and sixteen-year-olds had been in action as recently as the World Wars, had he been in the office. Gallant sighed. "Otherwise, I'm transferring you to Doctor Tygan's crew as a lab assistant and bridge tech."

"I'll talk to him, just you wait!" Mariah bounced on her toes now, her smile giddy. "Thank you! Thank you so much...sir!"

"Work on that," Gallant ordered. He cleared his throat. "And now, here's something a bit more personal." He waited until she'd settled down onto her heels before continuing. "Central - that's John, your father - should be coming by shortly to talk to you, probably at dinner or later tonight. I don't know what you know or don't know about him, or how you feel about him-"

"I don't hate him for running off and leaving Mom, if that's what you're asking."

Gallant nearly had a heart attack, he coughed so hard. "Right. Well. Just...you two have a chance to have a relationship. I think you should take it, and remember he doesn't know much at all about you. He'll make mistakes trying to talk to you, and you just need to be patient about it."

"Don't worry, sir." Mariah managed not to pause this time. She even saluted. "I can be _very_ patient when the mood takes me."

 _She might_ really _be John's daughter,_ Gallant thought.

Somehow, that idea scared him more than mutons.

* * *

"It feels like...like an itch." Sylvie Richard scowled. "A very annoying itch I cannot scratch."

"I know." Julie Richardson made a face at her through two clear walls. "Like some asshole with a feather is tickling the inside of your skull."

"Exactly!" Sylvie made a very frustrated noise. "What _is_ it?"

"Usually it means your purple power noticed something you didn't." Julie leaned back on her cot, putting her back to the far wall of her psi-cell. Sylvie stood, clearly more intent on pacing - perhaps to forget about cranial itches. Her cell was as sparse as Julie's own: no decorations, no nonessential items. Just a cot, just a table with a computer, just a little adjoining sub-cell that did not deserve the term _bathroom_ , and just a little end table that doubled as a dresser, holding what few clothes XCOM soldiers had.

Julie had more than most. Her family had always believed in appearances, and she'd struggled to ditch that mentality, living in the wastes until she found her way to XCOM.

"But _what_?" Sylvie wasn't as sanguine about odd itches and strange feelings as the redhead. Julie tried not to smirk, remembering the days where she'd paced irritably through her cell, wishing for something more concrete than an itch and a slightly constipated sensation to give her warnings. Warnings of _what_ , too: the same symptoms could mean she'd forgotten to shower or that a berserker was waiting in line with conditioner and a hairnet for her own turn.

"Typically, it would be something you ought to know but you've forgotten," Julie finally offered, trying to be at least a little helpful. "Something that anyone else would know, but you just can't figure out."

"Then what is it?" Sylvie's eyes bored into Julie, and the American once again got the powerful sensation that a soft-spoken mirror was taking her in. Something about having the same entirely unnatural eye color, she supposed.

"Pardon?" Julie blinked.

"If anyone else would know...you are someone else." Sylvie was logical like that. "Did I forget to brush my hair? Am I wearing clashing colors?" Two options that would have been common enough before the invasion. "Did I not hand my sidearm back in to the Armory? Am I accidentally levitating something I shouldn't be?" So much for that.

"I...don't see anything." Julie waved, and her friend turned in a full circle. "No, everything looks fine."

"Then why am I suffering?" Sylvie sat down hard on her own cot, playing with her white-and-black checkered hair. Either she couldn't use hair dye to save her life or she was being _very_ avant-garde, because Julie would rather have been eaten by a faceless than seen her own hair looking like that. Then again, it _was_ eye-catching...it wasn't _bad_ , she supposed, once she got used to it...

"We'll figure it out. Sooner or later." Julie's smile wavered after a minute. "And it comes in handy in the field. If I hadn't had that itch, I wouldn't have figured out what Jane was doing at the blacksite in time to hit the deck."

"Do _not_ remind me of that." Sylvie's face did a curious blanch-redden number. "I thought I was watching you die."

"Ah." Julie kicked at the deck. "You should be so lucky, right?"

"This is not something to make jokes about." Sylvie's eyes were very dark. "I knew Sophie Weber. I would not say I was close to Mendoza, but I considered Pablo Nunez a friend."

"Sorry." Julie coughed. "I didn't mean...yeah." She inhaled. "But things are better now."

"Of course they are." Icy determination rang in the Frenchwoman's voice. " _Now_ , if you are dying, I can do something about it."

* * *

"Better." Jane Kelly nodded. "Four of five, Moineau. I've seen worse from our sharpshooters."

" _Merci_ , Captain." The blonde checked her mag-rifle again, as if to assure herself the weapon was real. "This could kill a viper."

"I've seen it go down that way," Jane agreed. "Better than a rock in hand, that's for sure."

"I did not have much family of my own." For a moment, the Irishwoman didn't know where her charge was coming from, until she saw that cold light that occasionally sparkled and flared in her eyes. "No siblings, and parents unfortunate enough to have been casualties of the _unprovoked aggression from the Old World's governments_ in the Invasion. But Evangeline was my friend since childhood, and she doted on her son. He has grown up in this new world. He thinks highly of vipers. They have attracted his childhood admiration, as dinosaurs did to the boys of my generation."

Jane made a noncommittal noise. "I lived in Dublin for a while, before I finally cut ties and went underground. I know what you're talking about."

"I cannot decide," Charlotte admitted. She sighted down the range, and Jane clutched her earmuffs for a moment as the rifle roared. Golden light seared the old storage bay, and orange railgun projectiles ripped into the plywood targets marked at intervals. The painted images of First War sectoids and thin men came apart under the pressure, shattering into thousands of splinters almost as deadly as the flying shots.

"I cannot decide," Charlotte repeated a moment later, having obliterated three of the five targets in as many bursts, "whether I wish for Nathan to see what the creatures he holds up so highly really are...or I hope he never learns."

"Someday, everyone will know." Jane breathed out slowly. "It's going to be ugly. But things will be better for it."

"I wish I had awoken sooner. I always wondered. I always questioned. I was never as satisfied and comfortable with New Paris as Evangeline was." Charlotte lowered the gun, pursing her lips. A note very familiar to an XCOM pair of ears crept into her voice. "Perhaps, had I just-"

"What happened to your friend wasn't your fault." Jane's tone brooked no argument. "Sometimes people die, Charlotte. Sometimes things are bigger than you."

The blonde looked away. "You have lost someone, then?"

"I've got a list, _ma amie_." And Jane mentally ran through it without meaning to, seeing the procession of faces, each one with haunted eyes and an accusing stare.

 _You could have saved me_ , they crooned: James, Obsidian, Irina, Mendoza, Nunez, Sophie, and more in unison. _If you'd just..._

"If you'd just _what_ , Charlotte?" Jane tackled her trauma in humanity's oldest way: by lending aid to someone else. "What were you supposed to do? Even if you'd been a firebrand rebel and abandoned the city center, I somehow doubt a friend happy enough with her place to marry and have a child would have followed you. She'd only have died alone."

Charlotte sighed. "It is hard to bear this in mind."

"I know it is." Jane hesitantly put a hand on her shoulder. "We all have to figure out how to carry this, that's-"

 _Blam! Blam!_

"Fuck!"

Jane sighed. "Is that another one of five I hear, Bradford?"

"Sorry!" Mariah struggled with whether to focus her attention on her instructor or her gun. She settled for kicking the deck. "Something's up with my gun. I just can't..."

"Let me see it." Jane found exactly what she thought she would. "There's nothing wrong with your gun."

Mariah did at least know better than to argue with her superior officer. She didn't look convinced, but she took the returned mag-rifle with close to the same enthusiasm XCOM had shown to the surrender, and pivoted back to the range. Without a word, she nestled the butt of the rifle into her shoulder and sighted.

"I've told you twice that your feet shouldn't be like that." Jane allowed her voice to harden. "If I have to tell you a third time, you're on swabbing duty for a week."

"Ma'am!" Mariah went red. "I'm sorry-"

"Don't be sorry, Bradford, just do it." Jane crossed her arms and glared until the rookie - and she hadn't been like that for James and Obsidian, had she? - scurried back into a proper shooting stance. "Try again."

"Yes, ma'am." Mariah took aim, and Jane covered her ears. Charlotte did the same a space over.

 _Blam! Blam-blam!_

"Better." Jane's voice sounded weak in the stillness that followed the harsh roar of the mag-rifle - or maybe it was just her ear protection. "Three of five."

"I just can't..." Mariah's eye twitched. "There's _something_ wrong with my gun. There has to be. I can't _hit_ them."

"Not every soldier is a Sharpshooter." Jane shrugged. "I'm a Ranger, kid. Give me my shotgun on my first days, I was lucky to get three."

"But now?"

"Now..." Jane shrugged. "I've gotten four. Don't get discouraged!" She saw the look in her charge's eye, flitting in from the circle of Hell from which sprung self-doubt. "Practice, that's all it is. Hours and hours of practice. Us active-duty personnel spend more time here in the range than anywhere else on the ship. Well..." She chuckled. "Except the bar."

Mariah looked unhappy. "But-"

"But what?" Jane cocked her head. The girl blew air through her teeth.

"I kind of thought...well, with Dad being the legend he is, that I might have some of the same..."

"He wasn't born with it any more than anyone else." Jane really, _really_ hoped Mariah's father didn't happen to be watching the range from the stairway. He'd done that once or twice, almost as if he was afraid to approach her. Jane had noticed - and felt uncomfortably like her own parent was leaning over her shoulder to make sure she did her job right - but she didn't think Mariah had, because the younger brunette had carried right on just as if Central wasn't there. And that was what Jane wanted - so she didn't dare spare a glance for the stairway now. If Bradford _was_ there, and Mariah looked because Jane did...

"I suppose the question is how I get from here to there."

"Practice," Charlotte echoed, beating Jane by one second. "Hours and hours of practice."

"I'm sure he'd tell you the same thing," Jane agreed. "If he hasn't already."

Mariah considered. "I suppose that makes sense. I just-"

" _Mission Alert! Mission Alert! All hands report to General Quarters!_ "

"Oh, boy." Jane didn't jump like her charges, but she did immediately turn for the stairs with the reflexes of the veteran she'd become. "Basic dismissed! Check your weapons and stand by in the barracks for the call!"

" _Oui_!" Charlotte took her gun and rushed over to the counter where one of Shen's assistants waited with datapad at the ready. Mariah hesitated.

"Does this mean we're going into battle?"

"Just check your gun and get upstairs to find out," Jane repeated, neither pausing nor looking. At least there was no Bradford Senior lurking. "We'll know soon enough."

* * *

"We'll have to blood the new meat sooner or later." Gallant thumped along on his cane, resolutely setting a blistering pace that made his heart pound and put a worried look on Tygan's face. "I'm sending Mariah and Charlotte. Put Kelly in command and attach White for fire support."

"What kind of data are we talking about?" That was Bradford, sliding in to join the pair like he'd been there all along.

"The aliens are using some form of encryption beyond anything we've ever theorized - much less seen." Tygan didn't look happy. "I believe I can crack the code, but it will take the science team quite some time. Until then, I can't be sure exactly what the aliens are sending, but whatever it is, I believe it is related to the Avatar Project. They would hardly deploy as much security on the transmission as they appear to have if it were not important."

"Fair." Gallant made a snap decision. "Attach Quinn and her drone." He thought long and hard about his final call. "Sylvie."

"We have to blood the new meat sooner or later," Tygan echoed, much more sadly. "Julie will not be happy."

"Julie will learn to live with the facts that she's no longer the only psi-op - so I can afford to not burn her at all ends, which _ought_ to make her happy in a fair world - and that I'm the Commander, so I make these decisions. Besides, Sylvie's not quite _new meat_ , even if she's never smelled blood in our service." Gallant missed doors with hinges. Sure, the bridge portal opening for him as soon as he approached was convenient in a supermarket sort of way, but he pined for the days where he could dramatically smash a door open to announce his presence.

"Commander on deck!" Bradford called, which was less dramatic but likely more functional. Gallant nodded at the quick barrage of salutes people shot his way.

"At ease, bridge." Gallant returned a general, _hi-everyone_ sort of salute. "Is Firebrand awake?"

"Cursing a bit, sir, but she's getting her bird warm." Shen chuckled in the back of her throat. "I think she had a late night."

"Well, she'd better not crash that bird. It's the only one we've got." Gallant made his way up the stairs he still hated, claiming his eagle-eye commander's perch above the holodisplay with nary a grunt of complaint. "Doctor, could you-"

"Of course, Commander." The scientist vanished. It only took him a minute to reappear with a glass.

"Well." Gallant took it, examining the water level. "Am I am optimist or a pessimist today?"

"You're usually a pessimist," Bradford reminded him, a little smile dancing at the corners of his mouth. "I say it's half-empty."

"I say half-full." Tygan proffered Gallant's medication. "Though not for long."

"Not at all." Gallant took the pills without another word, and it was quiet for a moment as he worked through them with a series of quick sips. When done, he returned the glass to his science officer. "Thank you, Doctor."

"The squad's been picked out and are on their way through the Armory," Bradford notified Gallant after a moment. There was an odd note in his voice...

"She'll be fine, John," Gallant assured him, voice low. The XO huffed.

"I'm not worried," he lied, blatantly. "She's got Kelly and Quinn looking after her. Kelly's as good as they come."

"I didn't know you thought so highly of Fighting Irish."

"You're the one who invited her to the officer's club board game meetings-"

"Semantics." Gallant huffed, ignoring Tygan and Shen's grins. "Let's get serious."

* * *

He heard their voices.

They called from the darkness, called from On High, whispering and murmuring. They spoke into and from the void, bringing word of all things.

 _Things that are_ , they told him. _Things that were._

" _And some things_ ," he murmured, completing the mantra, " _that have not yet come to pass_."

They spoke. He listened, as always. They spoke of his sister and her defeat, they spoke of his brother and his idle pastimes, his _waste_ of the Gifts delivered by the gods.

And they spoke of XCOM.

 _Facility Nine_ , they seemed to whisper, and images flitted through his head - a ship in flight, a team of nervous fresh warriors, wheat for the scythe. _California_.

He rose, relishing the blue lights of his sanctum. His praetorian guard knelt at his movement, and so he ignored them.

" _Heretics_!" the Warlock decried, as his power built around him. " _Come forth, and be judged_!"

* * *

 **Author's Note 28: Eldest**

One thing I'm not clear on - exactly - is whether the Chosen are alien in origin, or were once human. I _think_ it's the latter, even if they look far beyond anything I could say originated with a human form, but their dialogue certainly supports this idea. I would prefer the former explanation though - I like the idea of the Elders having a set of interplanetary troubleshooters who are used to fighting resistance movements across various worlds. But I won't argue with canon... _this_ time.

I know the Warlock has a reputation as the most dangerous of the Chosen. I don't really feel that way myself - _god damn_ the Assassin is a pain in the ass - but he's certainly no joke. Maybe that's because there have been exactly two games so far where I encountered him before I had high-level troops and gear, and in both of those I started with a Templar ally, so I had the tools to work with my situation. EDIT: Since I wrote this, I started a game where I ran into the most obscenely OP Warlock in history - Kinetic Plating, Regeneration, AND Shogun all at once, combined with Groundling which is the weakest of the weaknesses. It was intense but I got him.

I like Templars. Not as much as Skirmishers, but I like Templars. I only play a great deal with them if I start allied to them - by the time I get them in other playthroughs, my other soldiers tend to be very high-level, so it's almost more work than it's worth to get the Templar up to speed with the rest of them. But some of their abilities are amazing.

Until next time, _Vigilo Confido_.


	29. First Blood

_Please remember to favorite and follow!_

* * *

 _"_ _Far better is it to dare mighty things, to win glorious triumphs, even though checkered by failure... than to rank with those poor spirits who neither enjoy nor suffer much, because they live in a gray twilight that knows not victory nor defeat._ _"_

 _~Theodore Roosevelt_

* * *

 **Chapter Twenty-nine: First Blood**

"Aliens have set up a transmitter relay shooting data off into God-knows-where." Jane took hold of the overhead grip in the Skyranger's drop bay, rising to glare down at her squad. "Now, we have a limited window to stop that transmission before the data stream is complete and the aliens have the stuff. Whatever the _stuff_ is."

"All right!" Mariah's eyes glowed, visible even though she perched in the furthest seat, nearly bouncing. "We'll school 'em good!"

"Settle down, Rookie." Jane spared an amused glance each for Aileen and David. Her fellow veterans were doing a worse job than she of hiding their grins.

" _Twenty seconds_ ," Firebrand announced over the PA. " _Opening bay doors. Please return all tray tables to the upright position_."

The doors hissed and cracked. Pneumatics whirred and hummed, and down went the ramp. Jane glanced to the winches dropping lines.

"We drop down in two teams," she announced. "Bradford and White, with me. Quinn, take the other two and push up on the east side along the road. We'll loop through the back alleys and try to catch whatever guards we find in a crossfire somewhere around that gas station." She gestured over her shoulder, and her team managed to spot the building before Firebrand tucked in behind a tall apartment building. Jane thanked God for the Skyranger's active camouflage - without it, there wouldn't be any way to fly in stealthily.

" _Five seconds_." Firebrand waited four, by Jane's internal count, before her craft stabilized. " _All right, ladies and David. Go!_ "

"Move it!" Despite her order, Jane paused to reach over her shoulder first. She let out a little sigh of relief when she felt the protruding hilt.

"That's a first," Aileen commented in passing, before jumping for her line. "She remembers!"

"Shut up," Jane ordered, even though the blonde was well out of hearing distance. She studiously ignored smirking David, instead claiming her own line and violating every single human instinct in her body by jumping for the ground at least two stories below.

As usual, the fall was both exhilarating and terrifying. Jane had never seen one of these lines break, but she was starting to have nightmares about it. Or what if she jumped for it...and missed? That thought was enough to make her shiver, even in the muggy coastal Californian heat.

Her boots hit the ground safely. Jane hurried away from the immediate drop zone, listening to David land right behind her, and Sylvie with him. The brunette sighted through the crude laser sight she'd duct-taped to her shard gun, looking for any thermal signatures or angry Adventers.

"Clear," Aileen announced, only a moment before Jane would have. The Specialist still had her...unique weapon, but it wasn't what it had been: Lily Shen might be insufferable, but she had managed to magnetize the Bolt Caster's projectiles and add an acceleration ring. The new _Magnetic_ Bolt Caster probably hit harder than Jane's shard gun.

 _But it's still a bitch to reload_ , Jane thought, approvingly clutching her own weapon. _Not like a classic shotgun_.

"Four on the ground," Sylvie informed her. She glanced up. "Two coming down."

Charlotte landed on her toes, face very white. She fished her rifle from over her shoulder quickly, hurriedly advancing to leave the ropes behind. Jane eyed her.

"Problem?"

"I am not overly fond of heights," Charlotte confessed. She held up a hand before anyone could press her. "I will survive. I have dealt recently with many things I am less fond of."

That would do as understatements went. Jane cleared her throat a bit self-consciously. "Well, Aileen, take your team and make some noise on the street. As soon as-"

" _Damn it!_ "

"What the-" Jane cut herself off and scurried backward as Mariah landed with a _thud_ , collapsing to her hands and knees from the force. A moment later, the cause for her curse landed, and the brunette scrambled on all fours to recover it.

"My strap broke," she explained, in between what sounded like muttered Spanish - and not very pleasant Spanish. The girl claimed her mag-rifle, then hurried to rise. "Stupid..."

"Check your gear before dropping," Jane advised. The idea of one of Shen's weapon straps breaking so easily seemed absurd, but now wasn't the time to seize Mariah's gun and check to see whether she'd actually clipped _both_ ends in place. "Now, I don't care if a snake slithers out of your boot and curls up in your nether regions, Mariah - if you raise your voice again on our _stealth op_ , you'll _wish_ I was a copperhead."

"Oh, shit!" Mariah at least kept her voice down, though she went red and white at the same time. "I'm sorry...ma'am!"

"Don't be sorry, just don't do it again." Jane turned back for the buildings, grateful that Aileen had taken her team and moved right along. David, dream that he was, had kept overwatch while she was handling the new fish. "Right. Gas station should be down that alley. Bradford, you're with me. You go where I say and do what I say, and nothing else." She hefted her gun, checked her axes again, and started off. "Fall in. I'll take point."

* * *

 _Boom!_

Purple light flared around him. It sizzled and hissed, diluting into the air, and as it faded it revealed this new place where he was called to do his masters' bidding.

The Warlock hovered, surging with power, reaching out with his senses for a long moment. He felt, and he spoke, and he heard voices on the wind - the Elders first, but the Other beneath them, as always, murmuring at the edges of his hearing.

" _You_." He fell to earth, landing lightly and immediately marching up to the red-uniformed captain who had knelt at the sight of him. " _Name?_ "

"Din Dourde," she said, still kneeling with rifle at her side. "I command this garrison."

" _Do you?_ " The Warlock glanced over the patrol in this Dourde's wake: a few soldiers, a purifier released from Containment duty, and a pair of vipers. " _Is this all your force?_ "

"No, Exalted One." Dourde still did not rise. "I have another squad stationed further out, sweeping the area around the transmitter."

" _Yes. This transmitter_." The Warlock glanced over his shoulder to the device, tucked in a seemingly-normal house. " _They are coming, Captain Dourde. And we cannot allow them to destroy it_."

Dourde seemed to take that in stride. "What would you have me and mine do?"

The Warlock smiled.

* * *

" _Eyes on the patrol_." That was Jane. Edward Gallant rapped his fingers on the railing of his command position, glaring at the holodisplay until it updated with the red icons of a lanky pink sectoid with its arms and legs too long for its gangly body, leading a lancer and a priest in steady march through the gas station. " _Targets acquired_."

"Probably a forward position. Hardly their main body." Bradford looked up. "Commander?"

Gallant mulled it over for a moment. Bypassing the scout position looked possible, but that would leave these units in his team's rear when the moment came.

 _Ironic_ , he thought. _One of the best skills anyone commanding a stealth operation can have is knowing when to_ break _concealment_.

"Menace, this is Gallant." He took one last look at the holodisplay, then nodded more for himself than his troops. "Weapons free."

* * *

"Fire!"

Jane's shard gun roared the instant after she gave the word. She'd chosen her target carefully, and the priest screamed, tumbling head over heels. Her white armor turned yellow in a hurry, and the pavement for a sickening distance in all directions along with it. Jane couldn't muster much revulsion, though, not when the "blood" was so obviously alien and smelled so... _clean_.

The sectoid whirled. It pointed at her quite angrily, chittering and howling through its too-large teeth under frighteningly large eyes, before turning to scamper for shelter. Jane worked the pump on her shard gun, baring her teeth as David's magnetic cannon erupted mere seconds behind her, stitching the sectoid with dozens of accelerated rounds capable of shredding MEC armor in a godawful hurry.

There might have been enough of the alien left to fit in a shoebox.

"I got him!" Mariah's gun roared, and the lancer shrieked. But it wasn't a shriek of death, just pain and fury, as the rookie's well-intentioned volley ran headfirst - and wasn't that an ironic phrase just now? - into the creature's inhuman reflexes. The lancer was moving before his partners were dead, and Mariah only managed to wing him, blowing a chunk out of his left arm and spraying blood over the still-twitching corpse of the priest. It wasn't enough.

 _Click_. Jane finished working the pump as the lancer's weapon came out. Just seeing the hateful electrified baton threw Carlos Mendoza into her head, and the brutality of his murder. She didn't let herself shiver - she couldn't. David was still turning his gun, so if she choked, she'd be the one with her throat ripped open-

" _Stop!_ "

The voice echoed and rang with power and majesty that might have come from an Elder, and the lancer literally ground to a halt in his tracks, weapon flying from suddenly nerveless fingers. He howled, dropping to his knees and clutching at his head as purple whirled around him, driving knives into his skin. Jane's stomach twisted when she smelled burning meat and saw his skin melting off in a great pink stream.

The stun lancer collapsed, twitching out his last breaths and coughing up yellow blood. Jane decided to disable his communications set, in case he got the bright idea to call reinforcements.

The comms set was in his helmet.

 _Blam!_

"Thanks," she said, working the pump again and ignoring Mister Atomized Head.

"It _stinks_." Sylvie looked quite surprised by that fact. "I killed a man and I am wound up about what it _smells_ like."

"Bring one of those air freshener cans next time," Jane suggested, only half joking. "And don't get too hung up on killing a man - I doubt that thing's really the same as you and me." Idly, she kicked him.

"Would you say the same to Mox?"

Jane made a noise not even she could identify - like a cat hacking up a hairball.

"Just...just move." As a way to admit defeat without admitting defeat, it worked well. It at least let her turn her back on the junior psi-op and hurry toward the transmitter relay. She glanced to Aileen and Charlotte, tailing Sylvie by a good twenty meters with weapons ready, as if they expected more aliens to drop from the rooftops at any moment. "Fall in."

"My gun isn't sighted right," Mariah muttered, as she hurried to her spot at Jane's side. "I _knew_ I had him."

"Sometimes they dodge." Jane left it at that, though she did elect to go over Mariah's gun herself back at base. It wasn't impossible something really was wrong with it - even if operator error seemed far more likely.

"Jane." Aileen hurried up, eyes on the roof of the nearest run-down house. "Charlotte thought she saw someone on the high ground."

"Nerves?" Jane cast a glance up that way herself.

"I don't think so. I feel like we're being watched." Aileen chewed her lip. "I didn't see anything, and haven't, but I don't believe for a minute we're alone out here - and it's not just Advent. Advent doesn't watch and linger."

"Agreed." Jane glanced at Charlotte, hanging back and examining her surroundings with a good deal of care. "Keep a weather eye out. Let me know if you see anything. Warn David and Sylvie. See if she can... _sense_ anything."

"Bradford?"

"I'll call it in myself." Jane reached for her comm. Aileen sighed.

"No. The _other_ Bradford."

"Oh. Right." Jane coughed. "I'll talk to her myself too."

"Got it." Aileen fell back a half-step, beckoning Sylvie and David over.

"Central, come in." Jane waved for Mariah, and the rookie hurried her way, frowning. "Possible contact report. Observer."

" _Just watching?_ " Bradford didn't sound happy. _Jane_ wasn't happy.

"So far." She glanced worriedly at the nearest roof, then at Mariah. The girl nodded to show she'd heard what Jane was telling her father. "We'll keep a weather eye out."

" _Roger that, one-five. Anything else?_ "

"Well..." Jane paused as she approached the data point. She frowned at the nearest ground-floor window, set inside an unassuming little house that probably belonged to someone without a lot of money. "Eyes on the objective."

" _You see the relay?_ " Oh, joy, that was Shen. Jane still didn't like her, even if she no longer had the urge to punch her. Being part of the officer's club and its game nights might have actually been working after all. " _It should come apart quickly under fire. Take it out_."

"Roger that, _Avenger_." Jane hefted her gun. "All right. Mariah, let's-"

Movement. Jane spun as she saw movement flash by on a roof: purple movement, red movement, _deliberate_ movement. It wasn't a flag or a hanging vine, of that she was sure. For that one instant, Jane almost thought she caught a face in the lurking darkness.

"Up there!" she warned. "I see-"

 _Blam!_

The noise was horrendous. It was like ten thousand screaming souls, pounding with the bass of an overcompensating amateur band. Jane's ears stung, and she added her own voice to the echoing roar after only a moment. Thankfully, she wasn't the only one. Charlotte fell to all fours, and Sylvie dropped her rifle to cover her ears, shrieking.

" _Come forth, my minions!_ " howled a deep, terrifying voice. It reminded Jane of another, and chills ran up her spine that had nothing to do with the racket. " _Rise for your master!_ "

"What the hell is that?" demanded Mariah, as violet light shot up from the ground on all sides. The world vibrated, but Jane kept her feet, swearing colorfully as hands burst from the grass and dirt.

"They're..." She broke off there, because she wasn't at all sure _what_ the glowing spectral forms were. They were obviously psionic, but they looked human...but they shambled and... "Some kind of psi-zombies!"

"Open fire!" Aileen cried, before unloading her one projectile into the first one she saw. The thing looked terribly surprised - but then a shot as big as its own foot ripped through it in a flash, and it disintegrated into glowing purple shards of light. David threw himself flat as Aileen's shot carried right on through, nearly clipping his head.

"Are you insane?" he demanded, though he swept up his gun and aimed at the second one in a flash. Jane covered her head with one hand, bringing her shard gun up on the third one - the _final_ one, it looked like - just as it howled and glowed all over with more of that hateful light. Somehow, letting it finish what it was about seemed like a bad idea to her. Her shard gun went off at the same time as David's cannon.

Unlike Aileen's kill, and unlike David's...Jane's exploded.

"Fuck!" she cried, as the blast picked her up and flung her like a wet kitten. She tumbled through the air, slamming right into Sylvie. The pair crashed, tinted purple by the rising light cloud from the zombie's detonation. Around them, David stumbled and Aileen fell, while Mariah leaned on a bench for support. Only Charlotte kept her feet, swearing in her own language.

"Up!" Jane rolled off of Sylvie, grabbing for her shard gun. "There's no way that's all of them-"

" _Mor balaten!_ "

* * *

"Oh, shit," Bradford breathed. Gallant didn't think he'd spoken aloud...and he couldn't disagree with the sentiment.

"Advent forces are occupying the house," alerted a tech who thought Gallant's eyes didn't work. "There's another group across the street holding down a crossfire. A viper in each group, a couple of troopers...an officer..."

 _Thud_.

"And that," Gallant finished, looking at the enormous, looming blue figure standing carelessly in the open ground before the transmitter house. "What the _hell_ is it?"

"It looks...it looks like the-"

" _The Elders have chosen me, as they have chosen you, Commander Gallant_."

"That damn channel!" That was the first thing out of Gallant's mouth. He clutched his ear, but at least this blast didn't have the feedback pulse that came with the Assassin's during the Switzerland op.

That thought led him to another...but he wasn't the first to voice it.

"That's got to be another of the Chosen," Bradford whispered.

" _We are destined to serve at their side together, Commander_ ," the Chosen continued, with an almost crooning note of longing in his deep voice. " _To bring their vision to this world - and beyond!_ " He chuckled. " _Come now. Allow yourself to be reclaimed_."

"Not likely." Gallant didn't know whether the Chosen could hear him, and he didn't care. His eyes turned to the tactical situation. "If White can-"

"Sir, they're caught in a crossfire with a Chosen looming," Bradford snapped. Gallant cut his eyes at the XO.

"Kelly's handled worse." And he wasn't even thinking about Switzerland.

"But-"

Gallant could fill in the blanks on the _but_. He even opened his mouth to counterattack, bridge staff watching or not. Bradford could not let the fact that Mariah was in the group jeopardize his tactical sense.

The argument Gallant expected never materialized. Something else did the job instead.

* * *

"What the hell?" Aileen demanded, as noise erupted from the far house. Across the street, sudden Advent shouts broke the stillness, and guns withdrew from the window. Was it just her imagination, or was that purple light inside? Was that a _machine gun_ she heard?

"David!" Jane wasn't one to let grass grow under her feet, and her boyfriend didn't need his hand held either. Up came his grenade launcher, and in the moment's confusion the sudden distraction back of them won, the Grenadier let out a Christmas present from Hell that smashed some unlucky suburbanite's window like a bad baseball throw.

Baseballs didn't usually explode.

"Sylvie, Bradford!" Jane waved the pair in her wake, already starting forward as fire seared out and glass and splinters rained and Advent screamed. "We've got the transmitter! Fall in!"

"Purple hair guy!" Aileen knew it was neither politically nor grammatically correct - his _hair_ wasn't purple - but it was the first thing she let fly. The second came out at several thousand feet per second, accelerated with a furious whine to what Aileen fondly imagined to be the speed of sound.

" _Insolence!_ " cried Purple Hair Guy, right before the Bolt Caster shot hit him in the chest. It knocked him off his feet, too, and he went through the ground-floor window underneath the house's new crater. Aileen scrambled to reload, hoping to be even more insolent at the first opportunity.

"Advent!" Charlotte cried. Her mag-rifle went off a moment later, and Aileen bared her teeth at the effectiveness of the rookie's fire. It tore into the open scar in the house's side, tearing down a pair of troopers in a flash.

"Keep it up!" Aileen shouted. She turned, bringing her Bolt Caster to bear on the far house. She spotted a viper that wasn't caught up in whatever was about on the inside, and her power cell hummed as she hit the trigger.

 _Ka-thwam!_ It made _such_ a satisfying noise, and that was just the launching - not even the impact that ripped the snake's head from its shoulders.

"Nice shot!"

Aileen nearly dropped the Bolt Caster. She didn't, because she was too busy diving behind a bench for cover, but shock still ran her veins. The figure appeared in a flash, bursting free from the window through which she'd shot the viper, doused in Advent blood and running with purpose along the porch roof for the next window.

"Who the _hell_ -" Aileen broke off as the figure smashed through the glass without a care in the world. Maybe that huge metal helmet he wore was part of that blitheness.

"Fire in the hole!"

"No, dammit!" Aileen waved David down a heartbeat before he unleashed his next frag. "There's a friendly in that building!"

"There's a _Jane_ in the other one-"

"Then shoot something with that overcompensating cannon!" Aileen ordered. "Suppressive fire to the south! Charlotte, keep supporting the breach team!" She took more careful aim as David hit the trigger, spewing hate in gold-tracer streams. Anyone his fire flushed out...

 _Ka-thwam!_

* * *

"Flashbang, through the door!"

"Out!" Sylvie Richard ripped the ring free and tossed the little device, then ducked to the side, grabbing for her rifle. A moment later, the harsh bark and white pulse of light changed the world, and she heard Advent cries.

"Go!" Jane led from the front, and she was the first through the door. She forewent her shard gun altogether, and instead her axe - imbued now with the same circuits as the new arc blades - flashed, rending someone's chest in two.

Sylvie's rifle roared before she was even consciously aware her feet had carried her in, or that she'd spotted a target. The captain in her sights howled, staggering back with one hand over her eyes and the other on her thigh. Unfortunately, she made the window, and she dove free for cover before Sylvie could finish her.

"That's not a problem..." The psi-op hung back, letting Mariah pass her, whooping and howling and firing in quick bursts. Sylvie reached for her amp, and one pull on the trigger summoned Power with a capital P from the air around her. It glowed and seared, hissing sparks where it hung on her palm, and she reached out with her senses. She found the captain, but also...

Sylvie released the power with a cry. It hissed out, picking and prodding, until it hit on what it was looking for.

"Heads down!" she warned, before diving through a side door, hands over hers. She saw Jane and Mariah duck...in the instant before the grenade she'd found on the next soldier's belt blew up.

"Ah!" Sylvie rolled, coughing as the blast hurled dust into the air. She heard screaming, but both Mariah and Jane's angry voices sounded over the carnage, so she knew they were alright. There couldn't be many more of them left in here, could there?

Sylvie reclaimed her amp and her rifle. She pushed herself to one knee, groaning and working out her shoulder. However many there were, she would deal with it. That was why she'd joined XCOM in the first-

Her thoughts ground to a halt.

"Central?" She was more hesitant about opening the channel to _Avenger_ than Jane or Quinn, but this seemed like the proper time for it. "I have eyes on the transmitter."

" _Are you clear?_ " That wasn't Bradford. It was the _Commander_.

"I...I don't see anyone." Sylvie glanced around, spotting nothing but a shattered window. "I am clear."

" _Destroy the relay. Our window is closing_." Bradford now, very stern and commanding. " _You're running out of time_."

" _Oui_. Consider it done." Sylvie raised her rifle, sighted in on the smooth, almost plant-like device, and hit the trigger.

 _Blam! Blam!_ Her fire blew chunks out of it, and sparks flew. Electricity crackled on now-exposed wires, and Sylvie fired another burst. This must have hit something important, because the transmitter shook and cracked, and finally its upper half burst apart in a surge of flame. Refuse fell, smoking and sparking, and Sylvie hurriedly stepped back to avoid it.

"It's down," she alerted the _Avenger_. "I destroyed it."

" _The transmission is offline_ ," Bradford confirmed. " _Good work, Menace._ "

" _Merci?_ " Sylvie wasn't entirely sure what she was supposed to say. Deciding actions spoke louder than words, she turned. "How many thermal signatures do you-"

A hand caught her face before she'd finished her turn, and Sylvie sucked in sudden breath.

" _I wonder how much you know_?" the Chosen mused, before power burst over Sylvie's forehead and seared into her brain.

* * *

"Go!" Aileen waved David off, and the Grenadier rushed into the house. Whatever was going on in there was loud and vicious, and she had her own problems. "As for _you_..."

 _Ka-thwam!_

"Don't you run at me," Aileen snapped, as the stun lancer, now heartless - literally - tumbled and rolled twenty further feet. She shoved a new bolt into place and finished the reset process. "Don't you _dare_ run at me, bitch-"

 _Crash!_ The door on the far house came apart, and an Advent trooper tumbled through, screaming. He at least wound up behind a car, which saved him from Aileen's next shot. He scrambled for his gun, shouting some kind of plea for backup-

 _He_ burst from the building, vaulting over the car with a single smooth flip. His gauntlets opened without the slightest visible command, and Aileen's eyes widened as blades nearly four feet in length sprung from each one. They flashed, ripping through the air, and he neatly bisected the trooper at the waist, flinging his two halves in different directions.

"Who the hell are you?" Aileen demanded, as the helmeted, purple-clad, calm-as-pie newcomer's gauntlets sealed back up.

" _Chosen, inside the house!_ " Aileen lost all interest in the newcomer then, because Jane's harsh bark filled her earpiece. " _Sylvie's down_!"

 _Bang! Bang! Bang-bang!_

Aileen hesitated. She glanced to the car and the newcomer, now crouched in cover. The Irishwoman hesitantly lifted the Bolt Caster, looking for whoever it was laying down mag-fire-

"Go!" It wasn't a _he_. Contralto maybe, but that was _definitely_ a woman's voice. The helmet had no eyeholes, but somehow Aileen got the impression of a wink or grin as the figure glanced her way. "I've got this!"

"And _how_ did you hear _my_ earpiece?" But Aileen wasn't going to linger, not when the figure produced a pistol that could fire for ten years at a spell and set to work laying down suppressive fire on the last Adventer. She turned for the transmitter. "I'm coming in. Come on, Nessie - stand by for medical detail."

* * *

" _She's alive_." Those two words sent a shiver of relief through the bridge. Gallant allowed himself a quiet sigh.

"Thank God!" Julie Richardson allowed herself a good bit more than that. She leaned on Da-Xia Liang for a minute, and the Grenadier wrapped an arm around her shoulders. "Thank God."

"Her condition?" Gallant gripped the rail tightly. "The Chosen? The stranger?"

" _She's stable_." Quinn sounded certain of that much, at least. " _I don't know about anything else. Medically speaking, she's just unconscious. The Chosen..._ "

" _Made a clean getaway as I entered the room_ ," Jane picked up. " _I got a shot into him and it seemed to piss him off, but he just blew apart into purple light and vanished._ "

"Teleportation," Tygan muttered. "Just like the Assassin demonstrated."

"Lovely. Then we have to assume he got what he wanted." Gallant growled in the back of his throat. "And?"

" _And whoever the newcomer is...she's gone._ " Jane made a very similar noise. " _Just vanished, leaving bodies in her wake._ "

"There's someone else out there," Shen muttered. "But who? And who _knew_ about all of this?"

"I don't know, Lily," Gallant muttered. "But I'm sure whoever it is will be in touch sooner than we'd all really prefer." He lifted his voice. "Pack it up and return to base. I want Sylvie in the medbay for a checkup as soon as possible."

* * *

 **Author's Note 29: Man, I Wish I Hadn't Had To Trim This**

It was supposed to be longer. It didn't work with my outline for later parts. Kill your darlings, fellow writers: put guns to their heads and ignore their pitiable wails. Kind of like I do with my characters. Don't believe me? Oh...you will _all_ hate me by the time Season Two is over.

I hate the dodge mechanic. I don't remember if I've talked about it before, but I _hate_ the dodge mechanic with a passion. No one asked for it, no one wanted it, and it adds literally nothing to the game but another random element - the _last_ thing XCOM needs. Especially since it's not listed in any of the shot menus, so you never know what your odds really are. _Maybe_ you have a 99% critical - or maybe there's a 100% dodge chance so you actually have a 0% critical chance. You're not entitled to that information, evidently.

Do I sound bitter? I am. The patched version of the dodge mechanic is... _acceptable_...but far from good. I don't like it for beans, but it isn't actively gamebreaking now, if that makes sense. But I started playing before it was patched, and that original version...Jesus, archons and stun lancers. If you know, you know. If you don't know, get down on your knees and thank the XCOM gods for their mercy. Maybe do it anyway.

Until next time, _Vigilo Confido_.


	30. Reunion

_Please remember to favorite and follow!_

* * *

 _"_ _In preparing for battle I have always found that plans are useless, but planning is indispensable_ _."_

 _~Dwight D. Eisenhower_

* * *

 **Chapter Thirty: Reunion**

"So far, her vitals are level." The nurse shrugged, almost imperceptibly. "Medically speaking, Commander, Miss Richard is unconscious."

"Will she wake up soon?" Julie Richardson asked, perched on a cot as close as the nurse would allow.

"Will she wake up at all?"

"Oh, John." Gallant gave his XO a sideways glance while Julie made a noise between a choke and a gasp. "You really know how to keep it cheery."

"I don't foresee any complications, but I'm not a mystic." The nurse brushed her hands off on her white jacket. "I imagine she'll be up and about sooner rather than later. But I don't have any experience with whatever this is, so..."

"Right. Fair." Gallant leaned on his cane, swiveling to fix the Look on Jane Kelly. "Why?"

"Sir?" Halfway through shaking out her hair, the brunette paused. She hurriedly plucked her cap from the nearest end table, nestling it back in place and fishing her ponytail out through the back. "I don't follow, sir."

"He had her dead to rights. Caught her one on one in a tight room, and she doesn't have the hand-to-hand training you do." Gallant frowned. "Why didn't he kill her?"

"He was looming over her when I burst in," Jane supplied. "Had a hand on her forehead. Some kind of...glow going on."

"Mind control," Julie whispered.

"Okay, if she was mind controlled, I'm fairly sure we would have noticed." Gallant tried not to sound too irate, but the redhead's panic wasn't helping. "Mind controlled people don't fall unconscious, unless the person doing the mind control is a straight-up idiot. It kind of defeats the point."

"He had to be doing something psionic," Bradford noted. "Control is unlikely, but I think we should keep Sylvie under observation by security for a while, just in case. He could have done a Manchurian Candidate on her."

"What?" Jane's expression blanked. "Say again?"

"Old reference. You don't need to understand right now." Gallant waved his hand. "Yes, John, I think that's reasonable. I want her moved back to her psi-cell and the door externally sealed. Alert Hiroshi's team, and station Junior in the psi-lab until further notice."

"I can-"

" _No_ , Richardson." That definitely was a bit snappier than Gallant liked. "If your _friend_ there wakes up with purple eyes and sets out to murder everyone on the ship, I somehow doubt you have what it takes to hit her over the head with a wrench until she gets reasonable. Junior has no compunctions." He hurried on before Julie's blanch could turn into _more_ panic. "He can also be programmed for nonlethal engagement, and do it safer than any fallible human."

"Sir." Someone else leaned in through the open doors, and Gallant was glad to take his attention off Julie's rebelliousness.

"Yeah?" He shouldered past Bradford. "Rogers?"

"Comms sent me." The Sharpshooter paused to sketch a salute. "We've got a read on a Reaper signal near Florence. It's Outrider."

"Oh, good. Something else getting ready to go wrong." Gallant hurried to join him, and he heard Bradford and Jane on their heels. The quartet set off down the companionways. "Any other details?"

"No, sir." Cameron Rogers pursed his lips. "Other than that she warned us to expect _four_ incoming, not _three_."

"Really?" Bradford made an incredulous noise. "Did Jiaying bring a friend?"

"Are they bringing a captive?" was Gallant's opposing thought. He sighed. "Guess we won't know until they get back. Outrider's paranoid about communications intercepts."

"Probably why she took so long to set up the damn beacon," Jane agreed.

"Rogers, notify Firebrand. Give her the coordinates and make sure she's ready for a pickup." Gallant chuckled. "She _just_ got in from the California op. Does that woman sleep?"

"God knows, sir." Cameron sidled into a side passage. "Anything else?"

"Not for you." Gallant turned the opposite way: for the elevator. "Kelly, make sure your team's debriefed and settled in, and I want you to keep tabs on Sylvie for me. Let me know if anything changes, but try to be surreptitious about it in case Julie gets defensive."

"Sir." She was a lot more agreeable these days. Gallant liked agreeable subordinates. Speaking of those...

"John, I want you to take the bridge." Gallant entered the elevator, turning and hitting the button for his office level. "Manage Outrider's recovery."

"Sir?" Oh, he'd do it, but he had his two cents to put in first. He and Jane paused before the doors. "What about you?"

"Me?" Gallant sighed as they slid closed. "I've got to make a phone call."

* * *

The hangar bay was loud. Metal clanked as techs hurried back and forth, checking fuel lines and generators to ensure all was ready if another mission alert popped up out of nowhere, as they tended to do. A bustling murmur of conversation filled the bronze-tinted chamber, echoing off the far walls from a half-dozen chattering groups.

Cameron Rogers strode through the mess, sidling out of the way as several burly flight hands pushed a trolley laden with God-knew-what past. The Sharpshooter was no one's mechanic or pit crewman, and his only serious experience with vehicles had been keeping his family's truck maintained on their Manitoba farm, so a lot of aircraft maintenance was exotic and eye-catching.

It wasn't the only thing.

"Hey, Firebrand!" He waved one gloved hand, pausing at the base of the Skyranger's drop bay door. "Message from the Commander."

"Oh, joy." Her helmeted head popped out from the cockpit, quickly followed by the rest of her, all blue flight suit and anti-g padding. She put one foot up on one of the chairs in the drop bay, leaning over to mess with her laces. "Hit me."

"Well..." Cameron entered the pilot's lair, though he paused at the top of the ramp. "Outrider's signal just went off." He related the rest of the details as quickly as he could.

"I hope the Old Man doesn't expect me to fly to Florence from..." Firebrand paused. "Where the hell are we?"

"Atlantic." Cameron waited for a minute, listening to the powerful engines thrum. "Maybe over the Azores by now."

"I don't even know where that is." After reinforcing Cameron's confidence in the pilot he trusted his life to on occasion, Firebrand finished tying her shoe and straightened. "Four passengers?"

"Unless you get a load of Advent asking for a ride here." Cameron grinned. "Rowdy passengers."

"I don't take the rowdy ones. Unless they pay well." He imagined her grinning back beneath that shining metal flight helmet. He couldn't even make out her eyes through the visor. "Tell the Commander I'll get his passengers and have them back in a jiffy."

"Copy that." Cameron glanced over his shoulder as someone dropped something heavy and metallic. "Lots of bustle out there, given they didn't know I was coming."

"We like to be prepared. Trying to get this baby off the ground in a hurry is a bitch." Firebrand put a hand on the Skyranger's interior wall, and Cameron didn't have to see her face to see the possessiveness and pride in her body language. "But she's the best dropship in the world, if you give her a minute to warm the engines."

"Is she?" Cameron chewed on that. "I would have thought the Advent craft-"

"Pedestrian. Simple things cobbled together from crappy parts and broken dreams." Perhaps this was the same disdain Cameron's British ancestors had for the ME-109 in the Battle of Britain. Somehow, he felt XCOM's sole pilot would have fit perfectly in the cockpit of a Spitfire. "This machine is the best of human and alien technology. Chief Shen - senior and junior - and I built most of her ourselves."

"Really?" That was news. Cameron had never stopped to wonder where the Skyranger came from. "I always assumed she was captured from the aliens, and maybe modified."

"Some of her individual parts were captured." Firebrand shrugged, and so did Cameron. That was just life for the Resistance. "But we put her together ourselves." She chuckled. "Could probably build another one if we wanted to."

"Why not?" Cameron frowned. "We could field two squads."

"Who's gonna fly her, Moose?" Firebrand leaned on the wall. "You?"

"My grandfather was RAF." It came out defensive.

"Have _you_ ever flown?"

"Um..."

"That's what I thought." She was probably smiling victoriously. "Hit the flight sims and impress me, why don't you?" She pushed off the wall. "Now quit stalling and report to the bridge. Let them know I'm ready whenever they call."

"Right. Got it." Cameron backed up. "Good luck out there."

"Luck?" She made a very condescending noise. "I make my own."

"God," Cameron muttered, trying very hard to keep it under the banging and chattering of the flight crew, "she really _is_ a pilot."

* * *

"Specialist."

"It's not so bad." Aileen Quinn leaned back, hands behind her head, and grinned at her new class-mate. "You get a _drone_ , Charlotte."

"I am not very certain about this." The other blonde reached for her drink, eyeing her assessment dubiously. "Then again, if the alternative is becoming a Grenadier, I think this makes more sense." She gestured to her decidedly unimposing frame. "But I had thought I had the makings of a Sharpshooter."

"Yeah, I thought I was a lock for a Ranger myself. Watching Jane - I mean, the Captain - screw around with her sword made me envious. Makes, I should say." She shrugged. "But she can keep the machete from Hell. I have a _drone_."

"This _Nessie_ of yours." Charlotte mused on that. "Did you name it yourself?"

"Sure did." She cocked her head. "You thinking about what you're going to name yours?"

Oh, God, her eyes were dark as hell. "There is only one possibility."

"Really?" Aileen wasn't sure she wanted to ask, but she _was_ the senior officer of the gathering. "What's-"

"Ranger!"

"Keep it down, kid!" Aileen shook her head. "Just shouting at us out of nowhere..."

"Sorry!" But Mariah's excitement didn't fade. In fact, her bubble might have grown. "But look at this! Ranger! Just like my father!"

"What a surprise." Aileen eyed the brunette. "You realize that's the single most dangerous combat position, yeah?"

"Oh, of course." Mariah clearly still didn't believe it could happen to her just like anyone else. "But...shotgun and sword? That's a great combination. Captain Kelly makes it work better than anyone, and if my father is a Ranger..."

"Whenever he deploys." Aileen knocked a drink back as she thought of the facility in Southeast Asia. "God bless, Sophie."

"How is _Mademoiselle_ Richard?" Charlotte asked. Aileen thought for a moment.

"Far as I know, she's fine. Locked in the psi-lab, but fine."

"That _thing_ ," Mariah growled. Anger clouded her gaze. "I wish I'd had a shot at it."

"If it's anything like the Assassin, I'd be grateful you didn't." Aileen shivered. " _She_ is some kind of avenging angel who needs to be euthanized."

"We'll take her down. We'll break Advent into little pieces. We have the _Commander_ on our side."

"Well, Mariah, you definitely sound your age." Aileen ignored the stony look she go for that. Instead, she returned to her rearward lean.

 _Commander Gallant, our secret weapon?_ The idea had been laughable not long before. Aileen tasted it, and Switzerland inevitably came to her mind.

"I think you're damn right," she allowed, before raising her glass Mariah's way. " _Damn_ right...Ranger."

* * *

" _They call him the Warlock_."

"Do they?" Gallant grunted in the back of his throat. "Who's _they_?"

" _Everyone, Commander_." Betos, occupying one half of his com-screen, looked both earnest and revolted at the same time. " _Of the Chosen, he is the eldest, and perhaps the most dangerous. He commands the power of the Elders, and is almost as strong as they themselves._ "

"So, a psionic." Gallant rapped his fingers on his desk. "What did he do to my psi-op?"

" _I'm not sure_." Now it was Volk, arms crossed as he sat in shadow. Maybe he was related to Shadow Man. " _My people know mostly of the Hunter and his pursuits, and beyond the name, we have little to go on about this Warlock. Betos?_ "

" _I am afraid we know little more. Our memories of our time as Elder puppets are clouded_." The chief of the Skirmishers paused to growl in her own language. It sounded a lot like cursing, but Gallant couldn't be sure. " _The Assassin stalks my kind, and we have little knowledge of either Hunter or Warlock_."

"Great!" Gallant threw his hands up. "No one knows shit about this guy! That's helpful!"

Silence. Betos and Volk hesitated, and Gallant thought they were trading looks through their cameras.

"...what?" He frowned. " _What_?"

" _There is one who might know more._ "

"Who?" Gallant leaned forward, clutching the arms of his chair. "Give me a name, Volk."

" _They call him Geist_ ," Betos supplied. " _He leads a cult known as the Templars. Their warriors use the power of the Elders against them in ways not even your psionics ever could._ "

"What's the catch?" Gallant's eye twitched. "I've been awake long enough to know it's never _that_ simple."

" _He's mad, that's the catch_ ," Volk burst out. " _Geist and his followers seek to reclaim psionic power from the Elders and forge humanity into some kind of mimic race - using the same technology and abilities as our enemies to become them in the future. They have little patience for my Reapers, and we have fought several skirmishes over their abuse of psionic power and their disdain for what they call our 'primitiveness'_."

" _I concur with Volk's statements_." That was a sentence Betos had probably never thought she'd say pre-Mox and Dragunova. " _The Templars are legitimately insane. Their warriors use the power of the Elders to engage Advent at close range, then fade into the background when they have claimed whatever it is they seek. Their cause is merely the growth of their own power so they can supplant the false gods as the cult ruling over a weakened world._ "

"Close range?" Gallant frowned. "Quinn and White described the unknown contact as using some kind of psi-blades to engage Advent."

" _Wonderful_." Volk spat. " _You're being stalked by insane fanatics, Commander_."

"Not my first time. I served in Iraq." He glossed over how that had ended. "If this Geist character is the only one who can educate us on the Warlock, then we have to open contact with him. Do either of you know how?"

" _There are some nets I can cast_ ," Volk allowed. Betos looked uncertain.

" _Commander Gallant...are you certain of this?_ " She sighed. " _It would risk the lives of our people, attempting to find the camp of this group that hates us._ "

"Give me another option and I'll take it," Gallant encouraged. When the silence dragged on for more than half a minute, he figured that was his answer. "Start theoretical. Figure out _how_ to contact the Templars, then bring it to me. I'll use my people to do the talking instead of yours - maybe they'll be less likely to shoot on sight if it's not you who approach them."

" _Similar to how you brokered the Treaty of Novosibirsk?_ " Betos asked.

"Yeah, something like that," Gallant allowed. "Hopefully with less Lost, less Chosen, and less... _people-getting-kidnapped_."

" _That sounds like an agreeable change to the plan_." Volk chuckled, clearly a little relieved. " _Very well, Commander. I'll work on my end_."

" _And myself on mine_ ," Betos agreed. " _Glory to the Resistance, and may we overcome the Elders in short order!_ "

She disconnected. Gallant eyed the hanging shield sigil where her image had been.

" _You know, Commander,_ " Volk began. " _She may be a bit over-the-top, but I think she might actually have her heart in the right place_."

"I'm glad for your confidence." Gallant finally leaned back, reaching for his medication. "Let me know when you have anything. Gallant out."

He cut the connection, then took a moment and his pills. Gallant eyed exactly how few were left, and he growled.

"Have to raid a pharmaceutical company," he muttered. "Or a drugstore." He spent a moment imaging the Skyranger coming down in front of the local CVS and disgorging a fully-armed squad for a full tactical insertion. His lips twitched.

 _Beep!_

He hit the comm button. "Gallant."

" _Sir, Firebrand's inbound_." That was Bradford. " _Shouldn't be more than fifteen, twenty minutes until she's here. Everyone's fine, even if Jiaying's a bit worse for wear._ "

"Notify the med bay. And send Shen up here." Gallant didn't even wait for Bradford's acknowledgment. Instead, he leaned back, rubbing his chin.

Templars. Templars watching his team from the high ground, interfering to save them...Jane, Quinn, White, and most importantly Mariah Bradford now all owed their lives to this unknown warrior. If the Templar in question was operating on her own, that was its own ball of wax, but if she was there on _Geist_ 's orders...

"What if he comes to _me_?" Gallant wondered, again rapping his fingers on the desk. "What if he isn't content with his own game and wants to join the big boys?"

More support? Never bad. More political dancing? Potentially _very_ bad. The Reapers and Skirmishers barely didn't hate each other as it was. Adding a third ball to the juggling act that was Gallant's life would make things infinitely more difficult. And, all things considered, they were less balls he was juggling and more hand grenades. When one finally blew...

"Commander?" Shen leaned through the open door. "Do you have a minute?"

"Shen, I called _you_." Gallant blinked. "Did you..."

"I was already on my way. I guess Central is sending someone down to an empty workshop." Shen entered, the door sliding shut behind her. Gallant frowned as he saw what was in her hand.

"In my time, we called those thumb drives." He exhaled slowly. "Why do I have the feeling you're about to give me bad news?"

"That entirely depends on how you look at it all, sir. It could be good news." Shen looked away. "I think."

"Oh?" Gallant rubbed at his eyes. "Firebrand is inbound with Jiaying and the team. You have until they get here to pitch whatever your thing is."

"Sir!" Shen lit up at the mention of Jiaying. She set the drive on the desk. "I wanted to tell you this a while ago, but when I tried, you got..."

"Pissy?" Gallant suggested. "I'll try to be human this time."

"Sir." Shen coughed, clearly uncomfortable with the bluntness. "Well, sir...remember Julian?"

"The homicidal AI?" Gallant made a face. "Shen, I can't _forget_ Julian. He's in my dreams."

"That's not the only place." With that worrisome proclamation, Shen launched into her explanation. "An imprint of him was left from where he tried to access the ship's systems, before we went to the Tower."

"And?" Gallant straightened. "What's he been up to? What do we need to do to get rid of him?"

"Relax, Commander." Shen held up the drive. "I've isolated him on this. He's nowhere else in the system now."

"Good. Drop that in the reactor."

"Sir..."

"Oh, God." Gallant took a deep breath. " _Shen_..."

"Sir, he could actually be fairly effective at piloting a SPARK unit," she finally burst out. "If I strip out some of his higher-level functions, he gives us a ready-made AI template we can use to construct another SPARK and operate it. I'm not the computer coding expert my father was - the most I could do on my own would be to merge the GREMLIN AI with the SPARK systems, and who knows how well that would work out. But Julian is here, and Julian is clearly capable of running a unit in combat."

"Yeah: against us." Gallant shook his head. "This is insane, Shen."

"I can make it work, and I can make it safe. By the time I'm done with him, Julian won't be able to run a calculator program without Central's approval or yours." She looked surprisingly set on her course. "Another SPARK would be an exponential increase in our combat capabilities. Junior is a tank in a world of infantrymen."

Gallant grunted. "That may be so, but..." He looked away. "I'll think about it. Keep him isolated until I've made up my mind."

"Yes, sir!" Shen beamed. "Thank you, sir-"

 _Beep!_

Gallant hit the answer button. "John?"

" _Firebrand's landed, sir. I'm sending them up your way._ "

"Copy." Gallant turned to Shen. "Shouldn't be long."

"I guess not." She bounced on the edge of her seat like a kid for a moment. "I haven't seen her in almost twenty years."

"A lot can change in that time," Gallant warned. "I learned that pretty harshly."

That did a good job of inflicting silence for the next few minutes. Commander and Chief alike waited, nerves riling them both up for different reasons.

 _Beep!_ That wasn't the comm unit, but the door. Gallant heard Shen inhale.

"Come in," he called, before reaching for his cane and rising in slow and laborious fashion. The door hissed open, and four figures entered. Dragunova and Mox, Gallant recognized in a flash, but the other two...

"Jiaying!" Shen's face lit up, and she almost threw herself on a woman who didn't look much like her at all. Dark hair, dark eyes - definitely an Asian face, but Gallant had never been one of those Americans who couldn't see the differences between Chinese and Korean heritage. Certainly Jiaying shared some of the former with Shen, but whichever parent was Shen's aunt or uncle must have take up with an ethnic Korean.

"Hello, Lily." Jiaying's voice, however, was almost identical. She hugged the engineer back. "Been a long time, cousin."

"Sir." Dragunova and Mox saluted, and Gallant returned it. He glanced to the last member of the gathering, saluting just the same.

"Who's this?"

"Mordecai Kowalski, Commander." He was clearly a Reaper, from the dark coat and the helmet tucked under his arm. "I have partnered with Outrider several times. My position in Italy was becoming unstable, so I elected to join you here on the _Avenger_ to maintain the war."

"Well, if you're half the Reaper Outrider is, I'm glad to have you." Gallant returned the salutes, then offered his hand. He was pleased with the Reaper's grip. "Welcome aboard, Mordecai."

"Thank you, sir." He had a heavy accent. Gallant didn't mind a bit: if he'd literally only spoken the Cherokee language, the Commander would have found books and learned it if that was the price for getting another Reaper added to his team. Whether this addition was temporary or permanent was a question he'd have to take up with Mordecai and Volk alike at a later date.

"Now." Gallant turned. "Jiaying Shen, I presume?"

"Yes, that's me." She hesitated. "Do I salute?"

"You're not technically XCOM yet." Gallant offered his hand instead. Her grip wasn't nearly as strong as the Reaper's, but women didn't normally go for the hand-crush thing anyway. The Commander examined the bandaged cuts on Jiaying's face. "Fall down?"

"A couple of times." She shrugged. "I'm all right. Nothing a painkiller and a good nap won't take care of."

"Good." Gallant eased down into his chair, and everyone else followed suit. "I'll want the mission report in a moment, Outrider, but give me that moment first."

"Of course, Commander." She kept whatever her opinions were hidden even without her mask.

"If you two would be so kind," Gallant invited, steeping his fingers, "I think it's finally time Shen tells me the details on how you know each other. All I've got to work with is your relation and the fact that you're an engineer too - and you said you had Advent information we could use."

"I am, and I do." Jiaying reached into the bag she'd set at her side, and she held up a drive. "This is information on Advent supply lines running across East Asia. It took me a lot of work to acquire, but I think the information will still be relevant if we work fast."

"Good." Gallant nodded. "More supplies are always a plus. But...you two?"

"Our fathers were brothers," Shen explained. "Both engineers, but Dad was tapped for the XCOM Project."

"My father lacked the well-rounded experience they were looking for," Jiaying agreed. "He mainly worked in infrastructure, not weapons technology and manufacturing, so he was happy with this arrangement." She shrugged. "When the war really kicked off...well, Lily had to stay somewhere. My family had settled in Vancouver in the nineties, and that seemed far enough off the beaten path that Uncle Ray sent her to us."

"So, most of the time the war was on, you were living together?" Gallant pointed between the Shens with the nearest pen. "You would have been...ten, Lily?"

"I turned _eleven_ while I was there," she chided. "Dad collected me after a while, but I spent almost a year in Canada. Even before that, we'd seen a lot of each other, our fathers being close."

"After the war, Lily and her father vanished to start setting up the Resistance," Jiaying picked up. "My parents kept their heads down in the cities, giving the image of being model Advent citizens while secretly working against the regime. We never joined the Resistance outright because we thought our positions - my father's as an engineer, my mother's as an accountant, and mine in Dad's footsteps - gave us too much access to the Advent network to throw away. So we fed data to local resistance groups as best we could."

"Fighting them from the inside." Gallant thought of Shadow Man. "Takes guts."

"Thank you for saying so." Jiaying sighed. "Times changed. I wound up moving to Italy - it's a _very_ long story, but I saw opportunities to rise in the Advent administration and increase my access level. I couldn't turn it down, and I'm glad I didn't. Without the move, I never would have gotten that data." She nodded to the drive.

"What made you contact us?" Gallant asked. "Why now?"

"Because I heard of you, after Switzerland." From her tone, that was to be expected. "I thought XCOM might actually be able to defeat the aliens, and I wanted to help if I could. That's why I risked what I did to get that data for you, and it's why I opened up contact now." She quieted. "I wish I'd been able to keep my comfortable position with Advent. I could have done so much more for you from the inside, feeding information out."

"Well, this could potentially mean a lot too," Gallant assured her. "And you said you're an engineer?"

"I like to think I'm a very good one."

"Well, I'm sure the Chief over here would love to have you on her staff." Gallant didn't even wait for Lily's enthusiastic nodding. "You could do a lot of good there."

"Thank you, Commander. I think I'll take you up on that." She hesitated, as if she had something else she wanted to add. "And..."

"Jiaying?" Shen frowned. "What is it?"

"It's..." She finally shook her head, taking a deep breath. "It's nothing. I just wondered if...Uncle Ray..."

"No," Gallant muttered, and left it at that. The story was Shen's to tell.

"Oh." Jiaying bowed her head. "I see."

"Well." Gallant cleared his throat. He picked up the drive. "We're glad to have you, Jiaying. And I can think of a lot of things I can do with this that will do a _lot_ of damage to the Elders' plans."

Gallant would have been quite worried if her wolf's grin had been turned on him.

* * *

 **Author's Note 30: Fly The Friendly Skies**

The Skyranger makes less sense the more you think about it. Maybe it's because my father wanted to be an aeronautical engineer before going into soda cans(bit of a slide there), but I can't take the flight design of the dropship very seriously. It lacks _wings_. I realize that's a thing in sci-fi, but it doesn't have vertical thrust either. Its engines are _rotary_. As soon as they turn to point backward, logically speaking, the Skyranger drops like a stone...just a stone going very fast forward. Iron Man has the exact same logical problem with his own flight style: vertical lift like a helicopter works - he, and the Skyranger, would make fantastic chopper analogues. But they're shown _soaring_ , shooting along like missiles. Missiles have fins...for a reason.

That said, the Skyranger is pretty cool to look at. I'm not incapable of enjoying it because it doesn't make a load of sense. But the logic of XCOM even _having_ one is difficult at times too: my explanation is about the only one that doesn't fall apart _too_ badly under thought. If it was inside the Avenger, why does it look so different from Advent's ships, of which presumably it was once one? If it was stolen, was it stolen _before_ , or _after_ the Avenger? If before, how did a mobile Resistance movement keep it maintained and fueled before they had a carrier to launch it? If after, how did they get _to_ it in the first place? And the same question about its stylistic differences from Advent ships. It can't be leftover XCOM tech from the First Invasion because it's way too advanced.

Logically, it _must_ have been built by the Shens and possibly Firebrand herself. Which adds an entire additional layer of logical problems related to manufacturing, assembly, labor, automation, tolerances, precision machining, and aeronautical design, but I'm going to do what fantasy and sci-fi writers do best and gloss over anything that smells like detailed economics and engineering for the sake of a kickass story. Bite me, Dad.

Until next time, _Vigilo Confido_.


	31. Templar

_Please remember to favorite and follow!_

* * *

 _"_ _Misery acquaints a man with strange bedfellows_ _."_

 _~William Shakespeare_

* * *

 **Chapter Thirty-one: Templar**

"Good morning, Commander. 3:42 in the morning, to be precise."

Gallant did not commonly have visitors at such hours. Gallant did not commonly have visitors at all, actually, outside of his office. Bradford and occasionally Tygan were the only people who disturbed him here, in his sanctum of rest.

And he didn't think anyone had visitors whose voices they'd never heard before...coming while _Avenger_ was in flight over the Atlantic Ocean.

"...good morning." Terribly stupid, but it was all he could think of. Of itself, his hand crawled under his pillow.

"Commander, I assure you that won't be-"

"Won't it?" Gallant sat up, and in the dark he leveled the original prototype for the first XCOM's laser pistol at the shape perched in his armchair. "You have until the count of ten to explain who you are and what you're doing here."

"Or?" She almost sounded like a man, with her voice that deep, but something about the scoff and the toss of her head reminded Gallant powerfully of his sisters.

 _They're dead_ , he reminded himself quite shortly. _Move on and stop thinking about them or you're going to drive yourself even more nutty than you already are_.

"Ten," was his best response. "Nine."

She sighed. "I'm not here to kill you."

"I notice you didn't say you're unarmed."

"I think you and I both know that no one is ever unarmed so long as she has her brain."

"One can try." Gallant shrugged slightly. "And no one with a brain _and_ a laser pistol is unarmed either."

"I suppose." She leaned back, crossing her ankles and resting her elbows on the arms of his chair. "My name is Janet Ross."

"And is that supposed to mean something to me?"

"No, but the name of my master might."

Gallant's eyes narrowed. "Geist?"

Silence. She shifted her weight. "You _are_ clever, aren't you?"

"Not really. It was down to Geist or the Elders - I had a fifty-fifty shot and I took it." Gallant didn't lower the pistol. "I also figured if you served the Chosen, you wouldn't have woken me up before killing me."

Ross remained silent for a moment. "He has been watching you from afar."

"I'm sure he has. I've heard some interesting stories."

"Commander, you should know that the Templars are tempted to provide support for your organization." She was putting all her cards on the table, without a shred of remorse. Gallant respected that...and he smelled bad medicine coming. "Some of them. Tempted."

"What's the problem?" He frowned. "We have a common enemy."

"You are allied to some of our enemies."

"Oh. Betos and Volk."

"The Skirmishers are _Advent_." Ross ground that word out with real anger and revulsion, and Gallant suspected it crawled up her face even in the dark. "To treat with them as if they were men, and to join hands with them in the face of their depravity..."

"It's war." Gallant had very little remorse himself. "You make alliances to win wars. Stalin was just as bad as Hitler - some say worse. But the American and British governments allied with him."

"And look how that turned out."

"Let me put this another way." Gallant drew equally on his knowledge of military geopolitical history and his father's science fiction collection. "You sound American?" His tone made it a question.

"Mississippi."

"Your state, along with a few others, rebelled against the authority of the United States government in 1861."

"Yes, I know this." Irritation crept into her tone. "The world has not lost its past for Advent's invasion, Commander-"

"It's not the fact that the South lost that interests me. It's the _how_." Gallant took a breath. "Britain and France were inclined to support the Confederacy - both to secure their cotton imports and to lay the upstart USA low. But successful diplomacy on Lincoln's part kept them out of the war, combined with their distaste for some of the South's...practices. As a result, the South lost." He gave that a moment to sink in. "Now, I'm from California, so I say _good riddance_ and _well done_ to that little episode in economic delusion and inhumanity. But if the British and French hadn't allowed their opinions of the South to intervene..."

Ross remained quiet. "You suggest an alliance of convenience."

"No. I suggest that your master meditate on what he and _my_ allies have in common. Volk's a pain in the ass, but he and his know the back roads and paths better than anyone. Betos isn't the most charming to look at, but her kind fight harder than half a dozen lesser warriors, and they have the kind of honor that would put a samurai to shame."

Ross made a noncommittal noise. "We will consider this. But do not allow yourself much tempted hope."

"You are a ray of sunshine."

"Says the man pointing a gun."

"What?" Gallant blinked, then glanced at his hands. Belatedly, he realized he'd never lowered the pistol. "Well-"

"Resume your sleep, Commander." Ross rose, and her darkened shape turned and swept across his quarters. "We will meet again."

"Hey!" Gallant threw the pistol aside, kicking off his covers. "Hey, I don't know if you figured this out, but that's my _closet_ door-" He sighed when she marched right in anyway. Muttering under his breath, Gallant leaned on the wall and the various items of furniture he'd deliberately spaced around the room for just this purpose until he'd reached the sliding door.

He wasn't sure what he expected to find. Some kind of portal hovering between his undershirts? A commune of Templars hiding on the other side of a hidden panel? Ross, confused and trying to look serene about her wrong turn? A big wardrobe?

He knew what he wasn't expecting to find: absolutely nothing. Even when Gallant flicked on the light, grabbed his cane, and tapped the walls to check for echoes, he found absolutely nothing out of place.

"I need a panic button," he muttered. "I need a panic button, and Junior on standby in the hallway."

* * *

"My head still hurts."

"I'm sorry." Julie patted Sylvie's shoulder, while the ravenette massaged her temple. "Anything I can do?"

"No." Oh, she sounded miserable. Julie eyed her face, bathed in purple light glinting from the psi-lab's many gentle lights. Sylvie turned, gaze haunted and full. "I still see his face. His _leer_. He was taking what he wanted from me...just...just ripping it out..."

"I'll kill him," Julie promised. "I'll kill him in some extremely painful way. Unless you beat me to him."

"I do not think he will be so easy to kill. He had similarities with _l'Assassin_." Her accent turned the final I into an O. Julie thought it made her friend sound quite sophisticated.

"In the end, she went down too." The redhead scoffed over the sound of a psi-reader beeping for attention. "We'll get him. You and me, together: we'll make him regret laying hands on you. _No one_ lays hands on you."

Sylvie glanced over her shoulder. Julie missed the glint in her eye. "You are laying hands on me right now, _n'est ces pas?_ "

"Not...not like _that_..." Julie coughed. "Do you want me to stop? Because I can stop." She pulled her hand from the Frenchwoman's shoulder. "I wasn't thinking...I was just trying to be friendly. Sorry if-"

"Gotcha." Sylvie grinned. "You stammer, American."

"Only because you made me nervous!" Julie's next touch was a gentle punch to the shoulder. "Damn, woman. You freaked me out."

"Do not be concerned. You may lay hands on me any time you like." A moment later, Sylvie's cheeks flushed to something near the color of Julie's hair. "I mean...that sounded..."

"Now who's stammering?" Julie studiously pretended she wasn't as red as the lying reflection in the glass tried to make her believe. "People in glass houses..."

"This is a _cell_ , even if it is made of glass-"

"Sylvie!" That was Hiroshi, bumbling and big as always, hurrying in with mustachios aquiver. "You have a visitor from the Commander!"

"He does not wish to make this trip himself?" She didn't sound hostile, merely curious. Hiroshi shrugged.

"Something about a break-in. Beats me. We were in flight over the Atlantic all last night."

"Where are we now?" Julie asked. Gossip about the ship's location was pretty common, but Hiroshi was high enough in the Know that he usually...knew.

"Black Sea!" Sure enough, he delivered as always. "On our way to some godforsaken little backwater in Korea, I think. Something about it's got the Commander's attention."

"Capital." Julie liked that word, and liked affecting an English accent to go along with it.

"You shouldn't do that. You're bad at it."

"Sergeant!" Julie snapped to attention. Sylvie was a little slower, but she also saluted as Elena Dragunova entered, mask forgone but trench coat still rustling around her. Belatedly, Julie realized she'd probably entered right along with Hiroshi, and neither psi-op had seen her because she was just that kickass.

 _I should have paid more attention to my sixth sense_ , she chastised herself. _You could be going into combat soon! Don't forget things like that!_

Sure enough, that was where Dragunova opened, after waving them back to a seat. She claimed a chair of her own, straddling it to sit backwards. "With Sylvie currently out of action, Julie, you realize you're back in the firing line as XCOM's only psionic?"

"I'll survive." She'd meant it flippantly, but Sylvie's stricken look convinced her she'd failed.

"I protest," the ravenette cut in quickly. "What about my request to be returned to active status?"

"I'm afraid we can't do that." Dragunova was at least gentle about it. She produced a cigarette, then showed one of the reasons why, despite her abrasiveness, she was relatively popular among the soldiers. "Anyone?"

"I don't smoke," Julie told her. "But thank you." Sylvie shook her head.

"Suit yourselves." The Russian paused to light up. She took a pull, and the end of her cigarette glowed the brightest orange to contrast the purple pallor. "The Commander isn't sure, Sylvie, that the Warlock isn't still in your head somewhere."

"The psi-reader says she's clear," Hiroshi notified the Reaper, bending over to check the device. "Clean as a whistle."

"We're dealing with heretofore-unknown abilities and strengths. Until you've been under observation for a little longer, we can't be positive that it would be safe." Dragunova shrugged. "I'm sorry, Sylvie. Your request was denied at the top."

"But..." She lapsed into her native tongue for a moment, which no one else in the room understood. Julie, listening to the note in her friend's voice, decided that she was probably fortunate she didn't.

"Is there anything you remember?" Dragunova breathed a cloud of smoke into the air, which made Julie grateful for the cell's glass. She appreciated the Reaper's kindness, but her aunt had drilled a merciless distaste for tobacco into her very bones. Medical professionals were like that.

"He was taking things." Sylvie had repeated that phrase a few times in her complaints to Julie, but she elaborated now in a way that made the redhead kick herself for not prodding. "Under his hand, it was like certain thoughts kept...flying to the surface. If I thought about it, he took it."

"Took it?" That was Hiroshi, while Dragunova frowned. "It's gone?"

"Not... _gone_...just weaker. Like a memory from childhood, even if it was something that happened only moments prior. Fuzzy details, questions lingering in my head about whether it happened in the first place or I invented it." Sylvie shrugged slowly. "He took many things, but there was purpose in his touch. I knew what he wanted, and I tried desperately not to think of it...but not thinking of it was thinking of it, in a way. It was impossible to resist him." She sounded so bitter, so disappointed in herself...

"It's all right." Julie wrapped an arm around her. "It'll be fine, Sylvie. No one could resist under something like that."

"What did he want?" Dragunova's eyes burned cold. "What, specifically?"

Sylvie looked up slowly. Her jaw worked, and she shivered - whether from fear or the chill, Julie didn't know.

"He wants Commander Gallant," the Frenchwoman said. "He wants him, and he's willing to destroy the _Avenger_ to get him."

* * *

"Well, this certainly looks intimidating." Jiaying lifted the enormous head sitting on Lily's worktable. "Is that a viper?"

"A viper hopped up on crazy juice, but yeah." Lily herself laid out a set of blueprints, chewing on her lip. "It's part of Design T609."

"Huh?" Jiaying tucked the Viper King's head under her arm, then hurried over. "Oh. Some kind of Serpent Suit."

"That's one way of describing it," Lily allowed. "It's supposed to have a grapple hook, see? And we can convert a combination of the Viper King's recovered venom and Vahlen's frost bomb's internal chemicals-"

"To ice up the line." Jiaying nodded, and Lily delighted in seeing someone else with the same innate understanding of these things. "Weight will be an issue, if you want to add a launching apparatus and keep a reasonable amount of line in the spools. Not to mention a winch mechanism to wind it back in - one that won't jam up easily."

"Yeah, that would be problematic." Lily sighed. "There'll probably only be enough of the juice for one use of the ice shot. That's the bad news."

"The good news is that it looks like it's a quick-fire thing." Jiaying studied Lily's scribbled research notes with a little smile. "Your handwriting hasn't improved since we were kids."

"I've had bigger problems." Lily hesitated. "I...I have to ask..."

"Yes?"

"What about your parents?" She gestured a little helplessly. "I've heard nothing since the end of the war. Do you have a boyfriend?"

"Not anymore." Jiaying's eyes got a little distant. "I had a fiancé for a while - until he was caught up in a raid."

"Oh, no." Lily looked down. "I'm sorry, Jiaying."

"Thanks." There was something in her tone Lily couldn't place, but then her cousin moved on. "As far as I know, my parents are fine, and hopefully they'll stay that way. They're well away from any war zones, I know that for a fact."

"Good." Lily didn't really know how to continue. "It's...it's really nice to have you around again."

"So you've said once or twice." Jiaying turned back to the plans. "I'm sensing a problem with your grand schemes."

"Really? _Mine_?" Lily scoffed, perversely grateful for the change of topic. "That's a strong accusation."

"Namely, you're using a lot of that...alloy material." Jiaying underlined the metal selection with her fingernail. "Last I checked, you don't have much at all. And it's tied up between different priorities: there's this, there's the EXO project, there's the Predator program..."

"Not to mention expanding the psi-lab, repurposing those Advent turrets in the hold for ship defense, and upgrading our GREMLINs?" Lily laughed dryly...and a little sourly. "There's only so much to go around, and all of these projects are critical. We're going to have to prioritize somewhere. Or..."

Jiaying slowly tilted her head. Lily grinned, and after a moment, her cousin did too.

"Or," the other Shen finally allowed, "you could go get some more."

* * *

" _Mission Alert! Mission Alert! All hands to General Quarters!_ "

"Son of a-"

 _Wham!_

Jane Kelly tumbled on her rear, clutching her head. She swore more and more inventively for a long moment, accusing a large swathe of the ship's officer corps of certain highly immoral and anatonomically impossible acts involving their mothers and chryssalids. She chose not to dwell on the fact that said officer corps included her.

"Can't be helped." David studiously ignored her outburst, but she got perverse satisfaction from hearing how irritated he sounded. Still muttering unkind thoughts, the Ranger climbed to her feet.

"Give me that." She swept her shirt from the floor, an instant before the Grenadier could reach it. "And I'll need my trousers too." She stewed as she pushed her arms through the sleeves. "Of _all_ the bloody times..."

"Bradford must have a camera in here," David theorized, grinning as he tossed Jane's remaining clothes. She donned them quickly, pretending not to notice the way he ogled her until she did...and for a bit thereafter. "Man's too uptight and military for the times. I bet we're breaking almost seventy Air Force rules."

"Good." Jane sat on David's bed and pulled her boots on. She paused to massage her head. "Your goddamn table..."

"You're the one who thought the _floor_ was a good enough place to-"

"Yeah, yeah, shut up." Jane stood. "Get dressed and report to the barracks. Stand by for briefing at oh- _whenever-the-hell-I-find-out-what's-going-on_."

"Yes, ma'am, Captain Kelly." David stood to attention and saluted, which made an interesting picture given his current condition.

"Careful, now," Jane warned, giving him a once-over. "Captain Kelly's not as nice as Jane."

"Good," David echoed, and that made her chuckle as she left the room.

* * *

"There's a mission alert going on now." Mariah Bradford threw her shirt on, messing with the buttons as quickly as she could. "I was in the shower, but they say when the alarm goes off...you've got to go. Future me, you're probably laughing at me right now, but if that means we lived, isn't that a good thing?"

Her datapad, recording light blinking, didn't respond. It never responded, which was a mixed bag of good and bad like most things in the brunette's life. She finished with her buttons, then dropped onto her bunk and fished for her boots, skipping half the holes in her hurry to get them laced.

"We're going to be dropping into heavy fire," she predicted, almost giddy. "I've practiced with my sword and I imagine I'm pretty good with it." She pouted for a moment. "I've been told I couldn't name it _Glamdring_. I wonder if that's what Captain Kelly did - she's the only other Ranger on staff as far as I know. I really wanted to, so I was kind of left at loose ends until I went browsing through the _Lord of the Rings_ \- it's so great that the Doctor and the Chief remembered that preserving humanity means preserving its culture, too, in the databanks." She finished with her boots, then grabbed a band and tied her hair back as efficiently as she could. She had to repeat the process three times because her hands shook so badly. "Anyway, I read around a bit, and I hit on some _really_ exciting information that just answered all my questions. So, even if I can't have _Glamdring_ -"

"Bradford!" A heavy knock preceded that. "Get your ass out here, kid! The alert's going!"

"I'm coming!" She turned back to her datapad. "Gotta go." She turned off the recording, stowed her audio diary in her drawer, then raced out into the living quarters common room, skidding past a glowering Sergeant Liang. "I was getting ready!"

"Doing a shitload of talking for _getting ready_." Yeah, she took no crap from anyone. Scuttlebutt said she carried her incendiary grenade while off-duty, and Mariah wasn't inclined to find out by pissing her off. Hell, she dressed like a ninja and had the second-place title in the ship's hand-to-hand ring. She and Captain Kelly had never had a bout to prove who was better in all rather than in score, but Mariah wasn't sure she'd put it past the Grenadier.

"Sorry!" Mariah escaped close range as quickly as possible, bolting for the briefing room. She heard the sergeant behind her, muttering something about youth, and it filled her with cheer. Maybe she was inspiring people.

She passed the weapon racks, pausing to eye her shard gun and arc blade. They called to her, but for all she knew, she wasn't on mission. She couldn't just grab them now.

"Finally here, are you?" Lieutenant White wasn't much bigger on shit-taking than Sergeant Liang. "Were you in bed with someone?"

"No!" Mariah's heart nearly stopped. "Why would I... _who_ would I..."

"God, _rookies_." The Australian's features split into a craggy grin. "You're so much fun to pick on."

"I'm not a rookie," Mariah said stiffly.

"Leave it," advised Sergeant Mox, tapping her on the shoulder. "Central's coming in. We're about to find out what this is about."

"Central?" It was far easier to think about him like that, wasn't it? Mariah hurried to join the throng of soldiers taking seats - there was Lieutenant Quinn, there was the redheaded psi-op whose name she still didn't know...oh, there was Charlotte! She sat quietly, with murder written in her eyes, and Mariah thought twice about sharing a row with her.

"Thought you weren't coming." Lieutenant Quinn nodded to Mariah's father as he marched in. "You're late, sir."

"Late to my own party? Impossible." Bradford scoffed. "Morning, Mox."

"Good morning, Central." The Skirmisher nodded politely. "I am ready to strike a blow against the Elders."

"Good. We need more of that around here." Bradford almost physically ground to a halt after the former Advent soldier. "...Squaddie."

"...Central." Mariah bit down a nervous gulp. Instead, she snapped to attention. "I mean, Central, sir."

"I saw your name request." He nodded, a little slowly. " _Glamdring_ is taken, but I like the thought."

"I've heard, sir." Mariah fidgeted. "I, uh, came up with another idea."

" _Anduril_?"

"No, sir. Uh." She reached up to rub at the back of her head. " _Narya_."

"Really?" Oh, _God_ , he _got_ the reference! Her _father_ was a Tolkien fan too? "That's good. I like it. Pity it can't set anyone on fire."

"Ah, yes, sir. Pity." Mariah cleared her throat. "I, um..."

"All right." Bradford turned his back on her, and she distinctly thought that was a bit of relief in his tone. Mariah exhaled as surreptitiously as she could. Compared to the ordeal of talking to her father...what was fighting a few aliens? "Sergeant Mox will take command. What we have is a supply raid. Resistance hit an Advent train, its route provided by information delivered by our new engineer, Jiaying Shen."

"Sit down!" Lieutenant White urged under his breath, and Mariah jumped.

"Oh, shit...yeah, sorry..." She took a seat in between the giant hairy Australian and the giant hairy Scotsman, which wasn't exactly her favorite idea in the world.

"The train is carrying a large supply of alien alloys and elerium crystals, in addition to other resources." Bradford looked grave and serious, standing on the little raised platform before the benches, XCOM flag hanging behind him, hands clasped with military precision. "I once again remind all of you of the prohibition on use of elerium crystals as a recreational substance." Was he glaring in particular at anyone specific? Mariah wasn't sure. "We will drop in, secure the area from the alien response force, and bring the materials back to Firebrand for extraction."

"It's gonna be cramped," warned the pilot herself, and Mariah turned her head to see her leaning casually in the doorway, in full flight gear and helmet. "Cargo compartment's not _that_ big, so you'll be sitting on alien who-knows-what on the return trip. Maybe it'll explode if you fart on it."

"Yes. Thank you, Firebrand." Bradford looked like he wished he could shoot her on the spot. "You are a credit to the organization." He moved on quickly. "As I said, Sergeant Mox is in command. This is because Advent is deploying high-level scanners on the area - facial recognition scanners that will detect any of our more notorious personnel before they have the chance to get the drop on the aliens. That rules out Captain Kelly or any of our Lieutenants."

"Then why the hell'd you drag me out of bed?" White grumbled, but it was under his breath so Mariah supposed that was all right.

"I will lead this mission to glory and victory," Mox promised, before rising and hurrying to the forefront of the room. "Who is coming with me?"

"I'll leave that to you, Sergeant."

"Very well." Mox ignored the rush of words that flew at him, impossible to separate into component parts. Mariah didn't join in, but she did hover on the edge of her seat, biting her lip and trying not to bounce up and down with her hand in the air. Mox waved to two soldiers quickly. "Outrider and Warlock Richardson."

Up went the Reaper and the psi-op. Mariah swallowed.

"Cameron Rogers." Mox waved to the Canadian. "We could use your sharpshooting."

"Who else?" Bradford asked, while Rogers hurried to the front. "We don't have that many people who won't trip Advent's scanners."

"I would like to volunteer." That was Mordecai, the new Reaper. He came to his feet, saluting. "I can offer much in the way of support."

"I already have one Reaper," Mox said. "Two would hardly be fair to our enemies." A general murmur of mirth ran through the room, and the Skirmisher continued more seriously. "I would like to take Rookie MacLeod. There is no time like the present for your first action."

"Finally!" The Scotsman bounded to his feet. "I've been stuck on this ship for thirty whole-"

"And me!" Mariah couldn't hold it in anymore, and she bounced to her feet. "I want to go!"

Bradford's eye twitched. "Now, I know that-"

"Actually, I believe a Ranger would be the perfect rounding for my team."

Silence descended like a cloud. Bradford's gaze turned to Mox, and his large eyes remained steady as he met the XO's gaze.

"You...do?" Was Mariah imagining it, or was her father's tone that of a man who sincerely hoped Mox was playing a joke?

"I do." No such note in his voice. "She is my choice, Central." Was that a bit of rebuke?

"Yes!" Mariah coughed a second later, as all eyes turned to her, and her face heated on cue. "I mean, yes, I'll go. I'm ready and willing. It's what I came here to do."

Her father wanted to protest. Mariah's gut churned for a moment - was he going to overrule her and Mox? She quivered with rage just at the thought. Who did he think he was?

"...very well." Maybe Bradford suspected Gallant would have words for him if he did any such thing. Maybe he did actually think Mox was right. Maybe Mariah had imagined all of his hesitation and it was all tactical.

Maybe. But it didn't matter, because she was _going into action_. She wanted to crow at the thought.

"Gear up," Bradford ordered, and his gaze lingered on her. "It's time to go to war."

* * *

 **Author's Note 31: On the Art and Science of What I Do**

So, let's diverge from comments on XCOM as a game, and do something I should do more of. _Teaching_. No, don't leave!

For those of you who are prospective writers, I want to highlight one thing in particular: literally every scene in this chapter serves a purpose for the overall metaplot of Season Two, and in some cases _the entire fanfic_. Yes, I have rough ideas for S3 and S4 already in mind. God willing, S4 is going to be the last season, but I haven't ruled out a bit of creep into a fifth - though that decision will be made in S4, so likely well into 2019.

Some of these scenes are funny. Some are romantic. Others are badass. Less on that last in this chapter than some, but go back to Season One. I'm going to cite Evangeline's subplot: literally the first thing I conceived of about her character _was her death_. Every single other scene - which were all but one added after I had written the rest of those chapters, by the way - was done _entirely_ to drum up audience sympathy to give weight to Evangeline's murder. Every one of those scenes serves a purpose on the road to her death. Go back and look! If you study them, you'll pick out the step-by-step of the plot fairly easily. Study some other scenes and you'll find the same is true for Jane and Gallant, at least in large part.

Bear that in mind: if you're keeping a scene because it's funny? Kill it. Because it's badass? Kill it. Because it's romantic/sweet? Kill it. It's _only_ worth keeping if it contains a fundamental plot step or two...and if it has those other traits _in addition_ to that, that's as it should be. But in and of themselves, emotional responses are not reasons to keep scenes.

Until next time, _Vigilo Confido_.


	32. For Sport

_Please remember to favorite and follow!_

* * *

 _"I wanted the ideal animal to hunt," explained the general. "So I said, 'What are the attributes of an ideal quarry?' And the answer was, of course, 'It must have courage, cunning, and, above all, it must be able to reason.'"  
"But no animal can reason," objected Rainsford.  
"My dear fellow," said the general, "there is one that can."_

 _~Richard Connell_

* * *

 **Chapter Thirty-two: For Sport**

"A signal?" Edward Gallant gave Tygan a sidelong look. "What signal?"

"I'm not able to isolate anything in particular at this time," he admitted, "but it's coming in on Resistance frequencies from somewhere in the Eastern Seaboard. I can narrow it down further, but I suspect it will take some time."

"Is it a problem, Doctor?" Gallant thumped for the bridge, chewing his lip. "I don't like problems, especially not when we're halfway through a deployment already."

"I don't know. Whoever is sending this is clearly skilled enough to hack into our network, which says unpleasant things for our future if we do not find them and find _out_ about them." Tygan hesitated for a moment, as if there was more he almost added.

"Well, I guess that makes sense." Of course Gallant only put two and two together about the pause _after_ he'd blown his chance. "And the blacksite data? The Codex information?"

"Work is slow, Commander. We lack the computational power to make sense of much of it." Tygan shrugged. "We require a specialized facility dedicated to breaking Advent's data encryption, with a level of processing power currently beyond our capabilities."

"Well, then. Let's hope Santa brings alloys and elerium to all the good Commanders out there." Gallant reached the automatic door, and his cane came down hard on metal decking. Blue lights glimmered in all corners, casting an icy glow over the room.

"Commander." Bradford saluted. Gallant returned it, waving the bridge staff back to their seats.

"As you were." He reached the stairs to his podium...then paused to examine the holodisplay. He sighed. "You know something, John?"

"Sir?"

Gallant coughed, trying not to be obvious about how he was taking a minute before braving eight angry steps. "I miss the globe."

"Ha." Bradford shook his head. "Me too, sometimes. And that damn sweater!"

"You and your fashion sense." Gallant took the inverted plunge, and he gripped the railing tightly with one hand and pushed off his cane with the other, pulling his bum leg toward the heights of command. His heart beat as it should for now even if everything hurt, so really things were about the best he had any right to expect.

"All right." He was well aware someone who wasn't FUBAR'd could have made the climb in a matter of seconds, rather than the half a minute it took him. At least Bradford and Tygan pretended not to notice, and the bridge staff was getting better at it. "Status?"

"Menace is deploying," a tech alerted him. "They should be on the ground in ten seconds."

"Good." Gallant examined the data laid out before him. "What happened to the convoy? Resistance set off some IEDs?"

"Something like that," Bradford allowed. "Hit 'em with a bunch of EMPs. No damage to the goods."

"EMPs. We need more of that. It would help against MECs." Gallant glanced to the far end of the bridge. "Shen?"

"Yes?" Stereo, of course. Both of them gave him the same look through the same eyes. They kept their hair different and Jiaying lacked Shen's kickass tattoos, but otherwise they could have been twins, not just cousins.

"Write that down," Gallant ordered. "EMPs for tactical use." He leaned on the rail one-handed, using the other to massage his chest. "Before you say a word, Richard, I did take my meds before I came down here."

"I wasn't going to say _anything_."

"You're a bad liar, Doctor." Gallant ignored the round of chuckles at the scientist's expense. "All right. Everyone stand by for tactical command."

* * *

"Oh, come on..." Mariah did cut her grumbling off there, but nothing could keep her from thinking uncharitable thoughts about the mud she'd stepped in. She moved on as quickly as possible, shard gun at the ready, hoping there wouldn't be mud in her shoe when she took it off.

"Slow down," MacLeod snapped, his thick brogue like music to Mariah's ears even if the note in it wasn't so cheery. "You'll alert every Advent soldier this side of Spain, dammit."

"What?" Mariah did grind to something approaching a halt. "Oh, right. Sorry." She started off again, trying to be quieter. This whole _bushwhacking_ thing just wasn't really her style.

 _Dad wouldn't ambush them_ , Mariah thought, with a bit of scorn. _He'd just go right at them. No playing around in the trees and behind rocks_.

She couldn't deny ambush tactics were _effective_ , they just weren't _heroic_. Her brain warred with her spirit as she crept forward with her partner lingering in her wake, the pair only peripherally aware of the other soldiers advancing on the rail line.

"Hold up." MacLeod caught her arm, then pointed between the trees. "Take a look."

"Huh?" Mariah frowned, peering through the foliage. "Oh. Oh, you're right. That's...someone in white."

"A priest, looks like." MacLeod took the lead, and Mariah dutifully followed him. She checked her weapons, then reached for her com.

"Got a couple Advent over near us," she reported, trying to sound casual about it. "Looks like a priest, and..." She coughed, and trepidation crept into her voice. "And a muton."

"And a few Johnnies," MacLeod finished, pointing out the two troopers tailing the meat of the patrol."

" _Roger that,_ " Mox's voice chimed in. " _We are moving to position to flank. Mark your targets and stand by for my mark_."

"I'll get the big one." Mariah knelt behind a tree, sighting in on the muton. "I've got the firepower, and he's more dangerous than a priest."

"Priests can do psionic crap," MacLeod pointed out. "I'll take him."

"Right." Mariah exhaled slowly, trying not to give her position away. "We've got this. We could take them ourselves."

"Don't get arrogant, kid."

"I'm not a kid!" Mariah spared the Scotsman a glare. "Don't call me one."

"Well, you're kind of-"

" _We are in position_." Mox interrupted any further argument, even if Mariah couldn't keep from sticking her tongue out at MacLeod the moment he turned his gaze back to Advent. " _Stand by to engage on my mark._ "

"All right." Mariah aimed again, hurriedly tracking the muton as it continued its lumbering walk through the open ground. The damn thing just _looked_ angry, with its ugly red face behind that stupid respirator, and its bulging green armor nearly blending into the trees. Mariah curled her lip.

And she frowned as a little device flew out from the treeline, clipping to the priest's back. The thing jerked in surprise.

" _Mark_."

Mariah yelped as MacLeod fired, the reports from his burst unbearably loud in the stillness. Yellow mag-tracers ripped out, tearing into the priest and hitting the little device-

 _Ka-boom!_

"Shit!" Mariah cried, as the priest exploded. Shrapnel soared outward, eviscerating one of the troopers, and faintly a temnotic rifle _cracked_ , hurling a magnetically-assisted projectile into the other one. He crumpled, and that just left-

"Die!" Mariah howled, hitting the trigger. Alloy shards ripped out, clipping the muton's arm and nearly ripping it from the beast's shoulder. It howled, and Mariah frantically worked the pump as the creature reached for the grenade on its belt-

 _Pow-pow-pow!_ That was a burst from a magnetic bullpup, and Mox' fire finished what Mariah's started. She let out a breath she hadn't realized she was holding as the muton collapsed in a heap.

" _Textbook_." Her father's voice in her ear made her jump. " _Move it on up, Menace_. _Time's wasting, and the rest of that recovery force won't take long to figure out what the gunfire means_."

"Right. Got it." Mariah hadn't bothered to hit her com, but she didn't think she'd had to. She scrambled out from cover, passing the twitching bodies of the remaining Advent. She grimaced as the stench of death and evisceration hit her like a slap, infesting her nostrils and running into her open mouth. The brunette's stomach heaved, putting her nice egg breakfast in jeopardy.

"Watch yourself," Warlock Richardson warned, as she scrambled across the killing field with purple light trailing behind her. She slid behind a large rock. "Keep to cover, Bradford."

"Sure, when there's a fight." Mariah bypassed the rock and hurried up toward the convoy, hearing the rest of the team in her wake. "But as far as we are...I mean, no one could hit a berserker at this distan-"

 _Bang!_

* * *

" _Mariah's hit!_ "

"What the hell?" Bradford lunged a half-step forward, grabbing the rail. "Say again, Menace?"

" _She's down. One shot. She's moving and I don't see blood._ "

"Thank God for Julie Richardson," Gallant murmured, as his tactical mind fired up like a coal-fueled boiler. " _Someone_ 's got her head about her."

"That's not possible," Bradford snapped. "There's no Advent on thermals within their weapon range. You should be safe to-"

" _As much as I love being two steps ahead of everyone, Commander, I was almost hoping we wouldn't be having this little chat today._ "

"Jesus Christ!" Gallant clutched his earpiece, wincing as feedback built up for a long moment. "Again?"

"One moment!" Tygan's fingers flew over his keyboard, and harshly, the whine cut out. "That's that."

"It's another one of the Chosen," Jiaying whispered. "The Hunter!"

" _Your people have managed to keep things interesting, and keep me guessing._ " His voice ground and growled like the Warlock's and the Assassin's, but there was something lighter in it: something almost perversely cheerful. " _But that all ends today._ "

* * *

"Mariah!" Julie swore, then threw herself into open ground. She rolled through the dirt, heedless for what it would do to her uniform, and wrapped the teenager up in her arms. "Speak to me!"

" _Uh_?" was the most intelligible noise she managed. Julie swore.

Her sixth sense flared.

"Ah!" Hardly more eloquent than her charge, but the redhead had no time for grace and refinement as she hurled herself and Mariah both behind a fallen log. They tumbled a split second before-

 _Bang!_ Something red, smoking, and altogether hateful scourged the air where Julie had been only a moment prior. It arced across the clearing and hit a far tree. The psi-op's mouth went dry when its trunk literally split in half.

" _Oh, you're fast_." That voice rang in Julie's ear as she scrambled to her hands and knees. " _You've taken a little bit of what belongs to the Elders, haven't you, red_?" The speaker clucked his tongue. " _Naughty, naughty._ "

"Kid!" Julie looked for blood or a gunshot wound. She found none, but she did spot a small projectile lodged in Mariah's arm. Swearing under her breath, the psi-op ripped it out. She ignored the little bit of blood trickling out afterward, and ignored the projectile, too: she just slipped it into a belt pouch without a care.

"Huh?" Mariah's condition visibly improved. She shook her head like she'd just gotten in the ring with Jane, or maybe Central, and had to recover from a nasty uppercut.

"You're good," Julie declared, giving Mariah a pat on the cheek that was only a few pegs down from a slap. " _Avenger_ , Mariah's fine. Some kind of tranquilizer."

" _Roger that, Menace_ -"

 _Bang!_

"Shit!" Julie had just been about to rise and take stock of the situation - just _where_ had everyone else gotten to? - but the smoking red shot that bulldozed over her head suggested patience had been prudent.

" _Gotcha right where I want you_ ," the voice mused.

"Who the hell is that?" Julie demanded. She took a deep breath, then threw herself upright, rifle springing into her hands.

" _That's the Elders' Hunter_ ," Central chimed in, probably as someone read a data file from Volk or Betos off to him. Julie didn't really care, because she was staring in awe at the sudden panorama: half a dozen stun lancers charged from the convoy, followed by a pair each of sectoids and vipers, guns glowing with emerald energy. " _By all accounts, he's a relentless tracker with an unnatural ability to call his shots._ "

Julie stopped listening. Instead, she started shooting, and her mag-rifle hammered her shoulder like a battering ram, again and again with every burst. Golden tracers tore out and blasted one lancer's arm clean off. It stumbled, but another tracer lanced in from another direction and took it in the head.

"Nice shot, Rogers!" It was all Julie had time for, as she dropped her rifle and seized her amp. The gun hung limp from her shoulder strap while she activated the device and drew on the psionic energy in the air around her.

"You," she declared, glaring at the second lancer as it bounded straight for her, "are going to _die_."

She felt herself charge in that ethereal way: violet energy sparked and sizzled through the air, soaking into the lancer's pores and cutting in through his eyes. The Adventer ground to a halt, coming close to dropping his baton, as that energy lit up all his pain sensors and overclocked his system. Hormones released, mixing with the chems in his bloodstream, and in a matter of seconds, his heart rate shot up and sweat burst out over his face.

Simply put, he panicked.

"And don't you come back!" Julie cried as the lancer shrieked and bolted. It raced for the treeline, abandoning its weapons and bending double for speed, kicking up clods of dirt.

"That'll learn him!" Mariah bounded to her feet, still looking a little woozy but clearly unbroken. She hefted her shard gun, beaming, and vaulted the log. "Come on!"

"Wait just a..." Julie sighed as the kid vanished into the thick of the action. The redhead reached for her rifle, glancing about for her next target. "All right, who's-"

Strangely, she felt the impact first: like someone took a sledgehammer to her chest. The next thing to register was the acrid scent in her nostrils, burning them up from the inside like a hellborne mix of nicotine and kerosene fumes.

It was only after she finished tumbling on her back that Julie realized it _hurt_ , too.

She shrieked, louder and shriller than the lancer. When she clutched at her chest, both hands came away soaked in red. The agony overrode everything, and red tinted her vision.

" _That's gotta hurt_ ," the Hunter mused, perversely cheerful. " _Have to say, I'm a little disappointed._ "

" _Richardson!_ " That was Gallant, and there was a harsh edge to his voice. " _Check in!_ _Your vitals are_ -"

"Shut..." Julie knew she was dying. She knew - _knew_ \- that this was it and she was over, and strangely, that pissed her off more than anything else.

"Shut...the _fuck_...up," Julie hissed, not quite sure if she was talking to the Hunter or the Commander. She didn't care that much either, because her hand found her amp.

Purple power flared and whirled, and it cocooned around Julie, protective as a mother's embrace. It also drove into her chest like a scalpel and tongs, and she only had one lucid moment to scream before everything was pain.

* * *

"Come!" Pratal Mox put one foot up on a supply crate stacked in the bed of a long white grav-truck, and he opened fire on the first stun lancer to round the truck ahead of his. "You will not defeat me, kracsad!"

The lancer didn't agree. Mox didn't care that it didn't, but he did spare the time to pump two bursts of mag-bullpup fire into it. The shots stitched and perforated his armor and shattered his helmet's red visor, spraying glass shards into his face. They blasted yellow goo out of his back, and nothing could survive that concentrated fire for long. The lancer collapsed, and Mox lowered his bullpup, hunting for a fresh clip.

He didn't even look as the second lancer bounded up behind him, instead just snapping his ripjack up and letting the Adventer's own momentum drive the blades through its eyes. He twisted as the creature shook, and a moment later, he withdrew a yellow-and-gray tinted ripjack.

"Watch out!" MacLeod caught Mox from behind and yanked hard. Both tumbled on their backs...and an instant later, a scarlet shot trailing smoke ripped through the air where he'd been standing. Mox took in a hissing breath.

"We must move forward," he decided. "I will take the lead. Cover my flank."

" _Holy crap!_ "

"Rogers?" Mox sprang to his feet. "What happened?"

" _Cameron ran into a viper_ ," Elena reported, cold and focused as always. Mox heard her temnotic rifle go off on the other end of the convoy. " _It's taken care of._ "

"Very well." Mox waved. "MacLeod! Bradford!"

" _Busy!_ " Mariah cried, and Mox heard a sectoid scream out chittering death. " _That's what you get, you little pink bastard_ -"

"Spare us your commentary, Bradford." Mox ignored her apology. He jumped down from the bed of the grav-truck and scurried up to the next one, keeping his head low and hoping MacLeod had the sense to echo him. "Move up the left side of the column. MacLeod will advance on the right." He hit a button on his wrist, taking aim for the high cab of the next truck down the line. "I will seize the high ground and distract the Chosen's attention while you push on the flanks."

"Got it," MacLeod rumbled. "Set him up and we'll do the rest."

"We must hurry," Mox continued. "We have to defeat him and claim the supplies before Advent throws something else-"

The roar was titanic and earth-shaking, quite literally: the ground wobbled and wavered, and Mox nearly lost his footing. He grabbed the edge of the grav-truck's bed for support, wincing when MacLeod went down on his hands and knees. Glass shattered across the convoy, and Mox heard Mariah's shrill yelping mix in with the animalistic roar.

But he didn't have time to worry about Mariah, because his eyes fixed on the hulking brute of a figure coming down the length of the convoy: red all over with hateful little eyes, with great tubes of flowing chemicals traced over its arms and across its back, coming from some kind of storage tank dug into its skin. It was massive, easily bigger than Junior, and the heavy sledge assemblies fixed on its arms looked about as strong.

" _Not expecting to run into your friend's creation here, were you?_ " The Hunter chuckled. " _She doesn't look very friendly_."

* * *

 **Author's Note 32: I Never Miss(Even in XCOM)**

I find the Hunter to be extremely difficult to fight except in the best of circumstances. He's fast, he's mobile, and he can royally screw up your plans if you don't carefully account for him. Put your soldier in an excellent tactical position? Tracking shot mark. Hunker down is usually a waste of a turn - I operate on the "kill 'em all before they have a chance to shoot" school of XCOM tactical thought, so hunkering in and playing defense is usually worthless to my playstyle - and he can force you to move to a subpar position without firing a shot. And his grapple gives him the mobility to always lay fire down on you no matter where you are. At least the Assassin gets in close and mixes it up within engagement distance.

For the record, Julie does not have access to _every_ in-game psi-power, but as I've said before, I'm playing fast and loose with exactly what abilities people do have - I note that Aileen used the combat protocol in Season One, and yet mentions using the medical protocol several times. Julie can be reasonably assumed to have about half the psi-power list, and Sylvie's a few steps behind her.

I'll talk more about the Berserker Queen next time.

Until then, _Vigilo Confido_.


	33. Behemoth

_Please remember to favorite and follow!_

* * *

 _"Look at Behemoth, which I made along with you and which feeds on grass like an ox. What strength it has in its loins, what power in the muscles of its belly! Its tail sways like a cedar, the sinews of its thighs are close-knit. Its bones are tubes of bronze, its limbs like rods of iron."_

 _~Job 40: 15-18_

* * *

 **Chapter Thirty-three: Behemoth**

"With...with all the creatures out there these days..." Bradford stared at the holodisplay in stupefied incomprehension. "Vahlen just _had_ to modify a _berserker_ , didn't she?"

"I'm sure she had a good reason." Gallant winced when the hologram bellowed and banged its fists together again. The whole team burst into a mix of screaming and shouting over his com. "I'm sure it was a _very_ compelling reason."

"Her curiosity was not unfounded," Tygan allowed, lips pursed very tightly and the words coming out slow, like he had to taste-test each one for its diplomatic value. "But I agree that it was perhaps not the most... _prudent_...of choices."

"Light it up," Gallant ordered. "Focus all fire on the berserker!" He turned to glare alternately at another spot on the display and at the balding man on his bridge. "Tell me something, Hiroshi."

"She's...sustaining herself." There was a look of wonder in the psi-director's eyes. "Somehow, Julie's using her power to create a protective cocoon around her body, while she digs into her chest to pull the bullet out. She's performing psionic surgery on _herself_ in the field!"

"Will she live, Director?" Gallant clutched the rail, listening to the soldiers hue and cry, unloading streams of hot mag-fire. "I think they're going to need her."

"I can't be sure just yet, but I would imagine so." Hiroshi paused. "Sylvie doesn't know what just happened."

"Good. Leave things that way." Gallant didn't fancy explaining that decision to an irate Frenchwoman after the fact, but he was the Commander and that would probably get him through the conversation alive... _if_ Julie was there for the talk too. If she didn't make it back...

"What about the Hunter, sir?" Bradford demanded. Gallant ground his teeth.

"One problem at a time." He was well aware it was a less-than-spectacular answer. "It's up to Mox and his team now."

* * *

The Advent soldier had found a nice position: nestled behind a thick tree standing on a rise just above the convoy. It had probably been a Resistance fire position during the initial ambush, and it offered an excellent field of fire over the whole display. The soldier clearly intended to use that to best effect, and he very carefully took aim at Cameron Rogers, down on the road line with pistol in hand as he changed positions.

Elena Dragunova thought her prey might have detected her an instant too late. He definitely twitched, though whether he'd been about to turn or simply reaching for a grenade instead of his gun was more than she could be certain of. What she _could_ be certain of was that his helmet wasn't all it should have been, because the butt of her temnotic rifle caved it in and his skull with it.

She hit him a few more times as he croaked and tumbled, just on general principles. When his head looked like a bowl of yellow salsa, Elena moved on, not even bothering to wipe her gun clean before she seized the firing position and studied the fight.

She hadn't seen what had happened to Julie, but she had several guesses about what the screaming over her com had been about. She _did_ see Cameron doing his best to shoot that... _Queen Berserker_ 's equipment off her back, and Elena admired his guts if not his accuracy. She watched Mox' grapple go off and the Skirmisher fly atop a truck's cab. His bullpup roared a moment later.

So did the alien. The howling cry was earth-shaking and bone-chilling, and it made Elena - by no means a fresh-faced recruit - jump. When the beast lunged forward, its footsteps sounded as heavy as Julian's sectopod's, and almost as metallic.

"This Doctor Vahlen did good work," Elena mused, keeping her com off. She lined up her shot, putting on her best veneer of false phlegmatic stoicisim. "I'll shoot her myself."

 _Bang!_ The rifle's kick was different than it had been before its upgrade. That would have bothered Elena a lot more if it hadn't had a _lot_ more kick to it in other ways, too.

" _Target angry!_ " Rogers cried, and Elena hissed as the Queen bore down on him. The sharpshooter couldn't help backing away, but that wasn't enough to keep him from taking a big, meaty fist in the chest. It was at least a backhanded blow, but the solder still flew with a wail, hitting the nearest escort car so hard the entire vehicle rocked. Elena didn't like the way the Canadian slumped, but she thought he was still breathing.

" _Keep up the pressure!_ " Mox ordered. He unleashed another burst from his high perch - and then threw himself flat, rolling off the cab for the truck's bed. Since that put him closer to the Queen, Elena thought he'd lost his mind.

Until the red shot ripped through the air where he'd stood only an instant before.

" _I'll get you on the next one_ ," the Hunter promised, his voice echoing in Elena's head. She worked the bolt on her rifle, taking careful aim at the Queen's bleeding wounds.

 _Bang!_

The good news was that the creature roared in pain from the hit. The bad news was that its head swung around when it did, and Elena's heart probably skipped a beat when the beast let out another earth-shaking cry of challenge.

" _Get out of there!_ " Bradford cried, as the Berserker Queen seized a small truck. Elena made a wordless noise in the back of her throat as the alien hefted it overhead.

Elena dove for lower ground as the Queen hurled the truck. She watched it spin through the air, and she saw the contents of its bed spill out like a comet's tail. Crying out, the Reaper lunged, throwing herself flat at the last second, hoping gravity and momentum would carry her out of the danger zone.

She almost made it.

 _Crash!_

* * *

"Outrider!" Mox called, voice thick with pain. Aidan MacLeod swore.

"Never mind her!" he shouted, hardly polite but very practical. The dust hadn't even finished settling around what was undoubtedly a Reaper pancake before the Scotsman put a burst into the Berserker's back. "Kill the beast!"

He reached for his grenade, thankful that Mox was again opening fire. Whatever the Skirmisher's attachment to Outrider, he could worry about it when they weren't in imminent mortal danger. Speaking of that-

"Eat this, bitch!" MacLeod threw his pineapple, and the Queen, showing great dexterity and little brains, caught it. MacLeod whooped when it blew up in her hand a moment later, spewing yellow over the ground. Oh, it didn't look like it had blown her hand _off_ , but riddled with all those puncture wounds from the flying shrapnel...

"Watch out!" Mox warned, as the Queen charged. MacLeod threw himself sideways, yelping as the Queen's fist hit the road. Pavement cracked and MacLeod nearly lost his footing.

"Not today!" he howled, before pouring the rest of his magazine into her. "No retreat!"

That was when her other arm flashed, and MacLeod took a fist the size of a pony right in the chest.

"Fuck!" It was the only word he could come out with. Half his ribs must have broken, judging by the sudden conflagration lighting him up below the shoulders. He tasted blood when his teeth came down on his tongue. He dropped his rifle.

Then the Queen seized MacLeod by the waist, and he had a brief moment to scream as she squeezed his savaged ribs before she hurled him down the convoy.

MacLeod's vision went red even before impact. When he slammed spine-first into the next truck, he made a noise that could have been heard in Tokyo. He felt the truck's metal shell buckle under him, and something _snapped_ in a deep, personal, and extremely painful way.

He crashed on his face, hitting the road and skinning his elbows and his cheek both. Literally the only part of him that didn't hurt was his legs - they very conspicuously didn't hurt. MacLeod wondered about that, struggling to keep his raw throat from letting out another scream as he made his way to his feet.

 _Tried_ to make his way to his feet.

"Oh, fuck..." For a moment, curious satisfaction at having figured out his problem eclipsed the surge of existential terror that rushed up through his bloodstream. "They don't hurt because I can't feel them. My back broke."

Mox's bullpup roared. Mariah's shard gun was doing a hell of a lot of shooting somewhere over on the right, but MacLeod wasn't entirely certain what she was shooting _at_. He swore, stuffing his wrist into his mouth and biting down hard on it to keep from screaming again as he pulled himself forward along the road. Sure, now his wrist hurt too, but _everything_ hurt. What was a bit more?

He reached out, grabbing for purchase on the pavement. His com must have gotten dislodged in the throw, because he couldn't hear Bradford or Gallant in his ear screaming about whatnot. Maybe that was good, maybe it was bad. MacLeod couldn't be arsed to figure it out: his world consisted of the next handhold on the road, and then the struggle to not shriek and draw Advent's attention when he hauled himself bodily another arm-length. Where he was going, he didn't know, but it seemed very important to get away from where he _was_.

" _I have to admit, I didn't think you'd live through that_." A foot landed on MacLeod's back, and he screamed. He screamed so loud, he lost whatever it was the Hunter said next.

Then a pistol roared just over his head, and on came merciful stillness.

* * *

"Oh... _ow_..." Cameron Rogers came back to his wits slowly and with a great deal of moaning. He got his arms under him, grudgingly pushing up until he was on his hands and knees. His head hurt, and his back, and his legs, and...and a lot of things, actually, but he didn't want to dwell on that. He looked around, hearing gunfire and shouting but not really processing most of it. Without particular thought, he swept up his pistol, his sniper rifle having vanished somewhere in the remains of the convoy.

"Where is everyone?" he wondered. "Mox? Mox?"

He didn't see him, and the Skirmisher must not have heard him. The Canadian stumbled to his feet, testing to make sure everything still worked. All his damage seemed superficial. Even without knowing how much worse things had been for MacLeod, Cameron thanked his lucky stars and promised to hit the _Avenger_ 's chapel a little more often.

He might not have seen Mox, but he did hear someone else. Someone faint, but nearby.

"What?" Cameron stumbled off the road, following his ears and gradually regaining his legs as he hurried toward the slopes. He paused when he saw the upturned truck. "How the _hell_ -"

"Under here!" That was a breathless, strained voice. Cameron jumped, eyes flicking down until he saw the helmeted head sticking out from below the truck.

"Outrider!" Cameron hurried over, dropping to his knees beside her. "How did you-"

"My leg is broken." She was very clinical about that. Apart from a little shortness in her breath, Cameron wouldn't have noticed she was in pain. "My arms are trapped."

"Okay. Okay." Cameron looked around. "Uh...okay!" He found a long, thick I-beam of alien alloy. It weighed a lot, but he was high on adrenaline and barely noticed it. With a grunt, the Canadian jammed the end in beside Dragunova. "On the count of three, all right? I'll lever and you push. You get enough room, get out."

"Copy that."

"One...two..." Cameron sucked in breath. "Three!' He shoved, and he heard Dragunova grunt with effort. He more nearly screamed as he pushed. "Come on! Budge, damn you!"

Somewhere out there, Mariah fired on something. Cameron wondered if the dearth of firing and screaming meant the Hunter and the Queen had been killed. Then he remembered he was standing in the open, and he wished he hadn't thought of the Hunter. The hairs on the back of his neck tried to stand on end, and he imagined he could feel the Chosen taking careful aim to blow his head off his shoulders. At least it would be painless...

"Come on," he snarled, sweat pouring down his forehead as he shoved harder. "Come on, you son of a-"

The truck twitched. It wasn't much, and it took all Cameron had to hold it, but maybe it was enough. Just barely...

"Coming!" Dragunova screamed, and Cameron supposed she'd banged her broken leg into something on the way out. He screamed too, as his arms tried to drop the truck back on top of her. He didn't know how he managed to hold it, but he did, and slowly, Dragunova clawed her way out, hand over hand. Sure enough, her left leg was bent at an angle that made Cameron wince, but that one howl was the only sound she made except for grunts of exertion. She even made sure to bring her rifle out with her.

Then she was clear, and Cameron released the lever with a grateful cry. He tumbled to his knees, rubbing his red hands together and muttering curses.

"Come on," he gasped after a minute. Cameron leaned down and took Dragunova's hand in his. Gently, he eased her arm up over his shoulders. "I'll call Firebrand. You need medical attention."

She reached up and threw her tattered hood back. Cameron waited as the Reaper pulled off her helmet, throwing it away like trash. The wind rushed over her sweat-soaked face, now stained by a steady beat of blood from a set of small cuts at the base of her short hair. Her cheeks were sheet-white and she clenched her jaw very tightly.

"Wait," she grunted anyway. "The aliens?"

"I don't know. I don't know anything." Cameron used his free hand to steady Elena as he pulled her to her feet. He winced when she hissed. "I'm sorry, but we have to get you out of here." Dazedly, he remembered his com and keyed it. "Central? _Avenger_? I've got-"

He screamed when a red shape barreled from inside the convoy. Cameron swore as it set its eyes on the pair of them, and the Berserker Queen screamed another challenge. He grabbed for his pistol as it charged.

A tendril of violet light snapped into the creature's head. The angry roar and vicious charge both aborted abruptly, and the Queen let out a piteous wail. Cameron's eyes flicked past it, and he let out a short breath of wonder when he saw Julie Richardson, amp in hand as she leaned on anything that would support her. Hate blazed in the psi-op's eyes, hate without an ounce of quit regardless of the fact that someone had painted her scarlet from head to toe.

Cameron's pistol finally came out, and it barked as he put whatever fire he could into the Queen. She probably didn't even really feel it under all her armor, not compared to the psionic attack.

Or, maybe she did, because she let out another roar that sounded much different from the others. Cameron kept hitting the trigger even after his clip ran out, because his eyes fixed on a glowing portal vortex of whirling energy that sprang up twenty feet shy of the Queen.

"It's trying to get away," Dragunova breathed. Cameron nodded as the beast tore for the door.

"Good fucking riddance," he snapped, as it very well did get away. The light spun and condensed, and then it - and the Queen - popped out of existence at the same time.

"Jesus Christ," Julie whispered, stumbling from her current perch to a stack of crates. One shifted under her weight and tumbled, but she didn't seem to notice it. "What the hell..."

"You don't look well." Cameron guided Dragunova down off the slope and into the trucks. He reached for his earpiece again. "Firebrand? Are you there?"

" _I'm certainly not in Tahiti with a mimosa and a hot masseuse_." She seemed to chew on the thought. " _Maybe I should take a day trip._ "

"Outrider and Richardson are in bad shape. We need extraction for medical detail." Cameron didn't release Dragunova, but he did reach to his belt for his blue flare. "I'm lighting the beacon."

" _If the beacons are lit, then Firebrand will answer!_ " It sounded like a quotation, but Cameron couldn't for the life of him place it even though he felt certain he should have. Life was a haze at the moment.

"It's down." He dropped the flare. "Julie, you first."

"I'm not...I'm not hurt." She sank to her knees. "I'm just fine."

"You look like you bathed in blood." Cameron shook his head. "Your armor is supposed to be _purple_ , not red. You go up the rope first, and we'll follow."

"What about the mission?" Outrider demanded. "What about Mox?"

* * *

 _Bang-bang-bang!_

"And good riddance," Pratal Mox muttered, hurrying past the writhing corpse of what had been a viper. He paused to slide a new magazine into his bullpup, wishing he could put more shots into each clip. Perhaps he could talk to the engineering team about that? They were sure to recover all sorts of modification parts from this convoy. An expanded magazine or even a laser sight wouldn't be too unlikely.

 _Perhaps there will be a repeater_ , Mox thought, and that was a cheery idea. Repeaters could make mincemeat of even the strongest of Advent's servants - whenever they deigned to work, at least. If he could fix one to his gun-

All thoughts abruptly ceased, because when Mox rounded the last corner, he discovered he wasn't alone.

" _Oh, hello there._ " The Hunter grinned. " _The Elders aren't going to be happy to see you, you know_."

Mox didn't bother rejoining. Instead, he snapped his gun up and cut loose on something close to full auto, spraying the Hunter with fire. Yellow blood sprayed.

" _Oh, not bad_." But then a red shot lanced out, and Mox yelped as it took him in the side. He swore in his own tongue, clutching the wound. His hand came away yellow.

" _Shall we talk things over somewhere else_?" The Hunter bounded forward, and Mox saw purple shining on his hand. He thought of Sylvie, and what the Warlock had done to her.

He threw his bullpup, and it caught the Chosen in the face. The creature made an aggrieved noise, stumbling...and then Mox lunged, swinging more wildly than he would in the ring with Kelly or Liang. The Hunter had no trouble knocking his fist away.

It missed his other hand, and Mox's upgraded ripjack drove twin blades into the Hunter's flank. It howled.

" _Double or nothing!_ " Then he lunged, and Mox was on the defensive. He wove back and forth, ducking swings and strikes that could probably have knocked Central out cold. They whizzed through the air like rockets, too close for comfort.

" _Vox Tala for Ten!_ " Mox cried, before scoring the Hunter's other side. He fired his grapple in the same instant, and he flew away from the creature, seizing his gun in passing. He landed on the bed of a truck stacked high with ammunition and fuel crates, and he'd already snapped a new clip in place by the time the Hunter's head finished turning to track him.

 _Bang-bang-bang!_ Mox was a lot more disciplined with his fire this time, but still the Hunter ducked behind a truck before he could take a mortal wound. He took a few glancing hits, but Mox had to dive before a rifle shot punched his heart out the other side of his chest. It cracked within inches of him as he went flat behind the fuel drums, and Mox popped back up without hesitation. Again he fired, pinning the Hunter in place.

" _Who came up with the name Skirmishers, anyway?_ " the Chosen asked, while Mox dropped flat again to reload. " _What's the matter? Did you not like the way 'Deserters' sounds?_ "

Mox took aim at the truck and waited. He sighted very carefully, looking for even the slightest trace of his opponent. But the Hunter was patient, and far too careful to stick anything out where Mox could shoot it. A tense stand-off developed, with the Skirmisher not trusting himself to speak.

Then he heard the footsteps, and abruptly, he realized he was aiming at nothing.

The Hunter must have had a grapple. He must have used it while Mox was firing the second time - Mox's own gunfire masking the sound - and run across the convoy trucks, literally springing over the Skirmisher's head in the process. That left him over Mox and behind him, and the former Advent soldier barely had time to turn and duck before a rifle butt went for his face.

"Ah!" Mox flew backward, but not far. He snapped his gun up, but a hand knocked it from his grip before he could fire. Out came the ripjack, and Mox fired his grapple past the Hunter at the same time as he lunged forward. The momentum of the motor hauled him right up into the Hunter's face, and all that energy bore down behind his ripjack as he drove it into the Chosen's chest.

" _Oh, you're good!_ " The Hunter caught Mox's line, and he ripped it free of the truck with one yank. Mox tumbled, then came up to his feet, ripjack at the ready-

 _Bang!_

It hurt. Mox crashed on his side, clutching his thigh with both hands. Yellow blood poured between his fingers and dripped down onto the truck, and the Hunter gently stepped back to avoid getting it on his shoes.

" _Now, let's have that little talk about the Commander, shall we?_ " The Chosen leaned down and grabbed Mox by the collar. " _I think there's a prison that's been missing you for a while_."

"Hey, ugly!"

"Mariah!" Mox cried, as the brunette appeared almost from nowhere. She perched atop a truck, shard gun leveled, and she had the kind of shot soldiers dreamed about: straight down at the Hunter's back from point-blank range. Glee lit up her eyes.

And Mox watched as her gun twitched sideways

" _Wait!_ " Gallant called in both of their ears. " _Don't_ -"

Mariah fired...and her shot went right into the nearest fuel barrel. Mox heard tremendous sound and felt searing heat...

And then nothing.

* * *

 **Author's Note 33: She-Hulk**

The Berserker Queen is an odd Ruler. She's, in some ways, the least dangerous of the three - she can't freeze your men and isn't a good dodger, not to mention lacks the bind capability, so the Viper King has a leg(trunk?) up there. She, on the other hand, lacks the Emperor Archon's agility, mobility, and AoE coverbuster attack and command grab. In other ways, though, the Queen is quite nasty: that AoE _melee_ strike is a big pain in the ass, and her habit of knocking any soldier she hits into instant unconsciousness is a big black mark. In my most recent playthrough, though, I actually had a Ranger kill her in melee combat. And I don't mean "land the final hit". I mean "landed 75% of the damage she took." It was our first time meeting her in the game, too. It helped that Agnete had the Serpent Suit, the Fusion Axe, and Bladestorm/Blademaster. Yes, I name my soldiers after my serial characters. I'm a writer, bite me.

As far as weapon customization goes, I almost always give my Skirmishers expanded mags and repeaters, plus hair triggers most of the time, but that one's more open to debate. Skirmishers have so many attacks per turn that repeaters for the instant kill chance - and expanded mags to do _more_ in any given turn - are just no brainers. The hair trigger has a good shot of giving you _another_ action to play with, but an auto-loader or laser sight aren't bad. Though I wonder at the wisdom of laser sight AND repeater on the same weapon: their functionality seems to overlap a little too much.

Reapers are a bit of a debate with me. I give them repeaters and expanded mags too, but for different reasons: the Banish/Annihilate abilities are simply too good for me not to try and buff them as I can. More shots for the shooting spree is kickass, especially if you get in behind the enemy before firing, and adding a Superior Repeater can make Annihilate cover even more ground than it already does. At that point, I debate between an auto-loader or a scope. It's a more pronounced debate than the Skirmisher one, but it follows more or less the same lines. What are your weapon customization preferences?

Until next time, _Vigilo Confido_.


	34. The Lair

_Please remember to favorite and follow!_

* * *

 _" Science has not yet taught us if madness is or is not the sublimity of the intelligence."_

 _~Edgar Allen Poe_

* * *

 **Chapter Thirty-four: The Lair**

"Of all the available options," Bradford growled, fists down on his desk, "what on _earth_ possessed you to choose the _one_ that was irredeemably stupid?"

"I...I just..." Mariah swallowed, well aware she was all but alone under the gaze of XCOM's number-two man. She couldn't help but glance to Captain Kelly, framed at Bradford's right, but there was nothing behind the sheet-ice walls of her brown eyes. Why she was here, Mariah didn't know, because she wasn't tearing in and she wasn't trying to soften the blows.

"I was..." Words were hard to come by under that searing, judgmental stare. "I _listened_ when people talked about the Assassin. I read the data file we compiled on her." She tried not to glance at Kelly again...and failed. "I read something about how she was vulnerable to blast damage, and I thought...maybe it was just a Chosen thing, so-"

"And you didn't even _think_ about how Mox was in the blast radius?" Bradford exploded. He slammed a palm down on his desk, hard enough Mariah jumped. "And you didn't even _think_ about how the things you were blowing up were _the supplies we were there to collect_?"

"I...I..." Mariah fought the urge to lick her lips. She held herself at attention, shaking inside and out almost as badly as when the explosion had ripped through the convoy. "I just...I was worried about the Hunter taking Sergeant Mox-"

"Christ, Mariah!" Bradford hissed through his teeth. "You certainly fixed _that_ problem, didn't you?"

"He didn't die." Mariah knew it was about as lame as comebacks got, but she couldn't for the life of her see a better one.

"Yet." Sometimes one word could do more to chill a room than an impassioned speech. "It's a miracle they didn't have to amputate his leg, and it'll be an even bigger one if he lives in spite of everything!"

"I..." Mariah cast about for any other defense. "We got a lot of alloys and supplies anyway. We won't lose the war for losing those on the last truck-"

"How do you know?" Bradford's eyes flared again. "What if we _do_ , Squaddie? What if your sheer ungalled stupidity cost us our Skirmisher liason _and_ the resources we need to take on the Chosen?"

Mariah shook. Her eyes burned too, but not in the same way as her father's. Her defenses were untenable: what she'd done was exactly as stupid as Bradford had declared. If only she'd thought to _think_ for just one whole _second_...

 _If only I hadn't thought so much!_ she cursed mentally. _I should have taken the obvious shot instead of trying to be fancy!_

And it had been obvious. The XO treated it as if it were a matter of course...every other soldier would have realized these things. Somehow, Mariah hadn't.

She wasn't half the soldier he was.

"I'm sorry." She managed to keep her voice from cracking, and though her vision started to cloud, she was sure nothing would be visible across the room. It took all her self-control. "I'm sorry, sir."

"Don't tell me that." Bradford tossed his head. "Tell Mox - _if_ he lives. You can tell Outrider if he doesn't, and pray you keep your teeth through the conversation."

Mariah nodded, blinking quickly to try and keep her composure. Silence dragged out for a long moment, and she wondered if she was supposed to say something. She couldn't imagine what there was _for_ her to say.

"Now, you made several kills in action." Bradford's tone was the perfect contrast to his still-warm eyes. "Under other circumstances, you'd leave this room a corporal. As it stands..."

Mariah couldn't keep herself together much longer. "I understand, sir," she whispered. "I'm...I really am..."

Bradford let out a long, hissing sigh through his teeth. "Dismissed."

"Yes, sir." Mariah snapped off a salute that she knew was less than perfect. She turned and hurried for the door, clenching her teeth together and digging her nails into her palms until she'd not only crossed the threshold, but heard the door hiss shut behind her.

"Oh, my God." Mariah hit the first side door she could, stumbling into what declared itself _Power Relay 1-A_. Thankfully, no technicians were on duty at that exact minute. Mariah found a pile of wooden crates in the darkened far corner, and her legs gave out almost as soon as she reached them. She sat heavily, hearing the wood creak dishearteningly.

She didn't care.

"I'm stupid," she whispered, reaching up to wipe at the first tears trickling over her cheeks. "I'm stupid, I'm stupid...I'm _so_ stupid...this is all my fault."

Her father's anger hung in her mind, and his cold dismissal echoed in her soul.

* * *

"West Point!" Edward Gallant couldn't conceal his pride. Honestly, he didn't even try: restraint was not the most common trait of your average twenty-three year-old.

"And you did it all without a bit of help from me." Michael Gallant had a bit of an Irish twang in his accent that six generations in the US had failed to eliminate from the family gene pool until Edward's own time. "I'm proud of _that_ , son, as much as of anything else."

"I figured my chances were better if they didn't know my dad was _that_ senator." Edward grinned, and his father chortled too. They shared many things, including a sense of humor and a birthday that would be coming up soon. They also shared a deep sense of family obligation, and that was what made Edward's brow crease now. "Dad, if we need to stop for a minute-"

"Oh, no. I'm fine." His cane came down a little harder than usual on the DC sidewalk. To outward eyes, they could have been anyone: finely-dressed elderly men were far from unusual in this of all cities, and the same for smart and sharp military types on their heels. The senator paused, leaning on his cane, to point at his son with the authority of fate. "Someday, Ed, this will be you."

"Please." With the confidence of youth, Edward dismissed the ludicrous possibility. "I won't live long enough to get a cane and a hunched back."

"People usually live longer than they think they will," the senator observed. "I survived Vietnam, after all, and I wouldn't have given you a nickel on that possibility if you'd asked me back then."

"Be fair, Dad: a nickel was worth a lot more back then."

"The House for you," Gallant Senior decided, as he had many times before. "That'll be my revenge on that upstart Speaker." He finally did stop, as he reached an overlook above the Potomac. "I am proud of you, Edward."

"I appreciate it." It was the best reply he could think of. "I look forward to serving and leading to the best of my ability." He managed a wry grin. "Maybe you'll see me in front of your committee before it's all said and done?"

"Hm." Gallant Senior sighed quietly. "Son, I hope you'll forgive me one moment of age."

"Just one?"

His father failed to laugh. "I want to give you a thought to chew on."

"Alright." Edward squared his shoulders. Usually, when his father said that, a Clausewitz or Napoleon or Sun Tzu quotation followed. "Hit me."

"You're a good man and I think you'll make a fine soldier." The senator leaned hard on his cane. "But you should remember that there's a price that comes with being a leader, too."

"Dad?" Edward frowned.

"Sometimes the price of winning," Gallant's father had said, "is that someone else has to lose." He'd gone quiet for a moment, but the strength of his tone hadn't wavered when he picked back up. "Sometimes, Edward, being in command just means you have to choose who dies."

Edward Gallant, several decades later, sat in his office with a bottle in hand, eyes hooded as he studied the personnel file up on his terminal. Aidan MacLeod had been a Resistance fighter in his native Scotland for many years - it was like he'd gone berserk upon hearing of the surrender to the aliens. He'd hunted Advent with others and alone, for purpose and for sport, and never yielded for even an instant. He'd hardly been green.

"And now he's gone." The words tasted like ash in Gallant's mouth. "That could have been Kelly just as easily. Experience means nothing, not to those... _things_."

Slowly, he leaned back in his chair. One of the Commander's hands went to his cane, and he rested his fingers on the padded grip for a moment. A bitter smile touched his lips.

"I guess you were right, Dad," he murmured. A long drink later, he slammed the empty bottle down. "I'm alive _long_ after I thought I'd be gone."

"You can't let yourself dwell on these things, Commander."

" _Holy fucking dog shit!_ " Gallant leaped out of his chair with dexterity he hadn't thought he'd still possessed, and he snapped that prototype laser pistol up and leveled it all in the span of a heartbeat. He defaulted to the two-handed grip, which left him off-balance as his maimed leg decided to be a little bitch, and Gallant's hip slammed painfully into his desk. His teeth came together hard with an audible _click_!

"You'll drive yourself mad," the purple-cloaked figure leaning on the left wall continued. She had some kind of engraved bucket on her head, but otherwise could have come from a fantasy movie, with her rune-studded skirt - it couldn't be a skirt, not really, but that's what it _looked_ like - and the glowing lines running down her exposed biceps and elbows, and the heavy gauntlets that encased her forearms.

"You." Gallant didn't have a name for a minute, but then he did: "Ross."

"Charmed, Commander." She pushed off the wall to curtsy. "We meet again."

"Have you _never_ heard of knocking?" Gallant demanded. Slowly, he lowered the pistol, wondering if he should hit his shiny new panic button. "What if I'd been indecent?"

"In your office?" She cocked her head to the side. "What _do_ you do in here when you don't have ops to manage?"

"Paperwork, mostly. John has a fetish. Gets him hot and bothered."

"And you?"

"I'm more into voluptuous redheads." Gallant finally set the pistol down. "They've got more of an allure than requisitions and promotion notices."

"Hm." She reached up, disengaged something in her head-bucket, and peeled it off.

"Oh, lord." Gallant sighed. "Foot, mouth?"

"Perhaps." Ross threw out a long ponytail of bloody locks, almost as vivid as Julie's. "But now I have a negotiating advantage, don't I?"

"God, _women_." A male curse as old as time. "Negotiation, huh?" He took up his cane for support, biting back a snarl as his hip protested leaving the position that hurt it. "Is Geist joining the party?"

Ross looked like whatever she had to say tasted sour. "Geist is of the opinion that the possibility of cooperation bears enough merit to at least examine."

"That's a ringing endorsement." Gallant didn't want to sit before she did, but his leg and hip burned, so he did his best to be unfair: "Please, take a seat. Let's talk like professionals."

"I prefer to stand." And so she did, leaving Gallant no opening whatsoever. He stewed, wondering if all Templars were like this, or if she was an outlier even among her own kind. Ross tucked her bucket under her arm. "You have encountered the Warlock."

"Yes." Gallant narrowed his eyes. "What of it?"

"Your soldier. The one from whom he took information."

"Sylvie."

"She will have no lingering consequences, Commander." Ross sounded very certain. "What was done was done, and the Warlock is not present in her mind. We have dealt with this problem ourselves many times, for the Warlock has always hunted my people."

"Has he?" Gallant's eyes narrowed. "How do I deal with him?"

"I have done battle with the Warlock, and I know his weaknesses. His armor is designed to repel bullets, and can be easily penetrated at close range-"

"Close range?" Gallant raised an eyebrow. "And what if it doesn't work?"

"From the brain and cranial implants of a sectoid, a device can be fashioned that my people call a mind-shield." Ross reached into a pocket, and a moment later she dropped something that looked like a contact lens the size of Gallant's forehead on the table. "Consider this a peace offering from Geist: to you we give our knowledge of battle against the Warlock."

"In exchange?" Gallant braced.

"He would like to meet, Commander. And he would like that Betos and Volk know nothing of it."

Gallant blew air through his teeth. "I can't go behind my allies' backs."

"What you can and cannot do is immaterial. This is what my master desires." From Ross' tone, that meant it was Law. "He would like to meet with you in private to discuss what terms might be struck for an alliance between XCOM and the Templars. And he insists that the Skirmishers and the Reapers know nothing of this meeting, nor any other member of your command staff. What comes is between yourself and Geist and no others."

"I..." Gallant made an angry noise in the back of his throat. "He doesn't make things easy, does he?"

"If you knew what was coming and what could come to pass if wrong actions are taken, you would understand the road of caution." Ross might have been preaching Gospel. Gallant suspected if he'd asked, she could have started reciting passages from some Templar bible.

He let out a long, quiet sigh.

"Deal," Gallant finally said. "When and where?"

"The meeting shall occur two days hence, at ten o' clock." Ross smiled - and why not? She'd gotten what she wanted. "I doubt you and I will meet again, Commander. If you forgive the impertinence, and speaking solely for Janet Ross rather than for Geist, the idea of alliance between the Templars and your allies is unthinkable."

"I love you too." That got a snort out of her. Gallant glanced down and claimed the mind-shield. "Now, do you wear this on your head, or can it go anywhere..."

She was gone. Gallant let out an aggrieved whine.

"Stupid..." He sank to a seat. "What, am I Commissioner Gordon now?"

* * *

"I think he'll be alright." David took a deep drink, then slammed his bottle down. "Bradford?"

"Which one?" Jane demanded. She didn't drink from hers just yet, instead pushing it alternately from one hand to the other. "Central or Mariah?"

"The whole thing."

Jane grunted. "Central was hard on her. _Very_ hard."

"He's hard on everyone."

"Yeah, but..." Jane sighed. "You're right. He's hard on everyone. It's just a bit of a skewed situation, knowing what they are. I guess it _seems_ worse than it really is. If I pulled the shit she did, I'd be in it up to my eyebrows and he'd let me know in no uncertain terms." She grimaced, remembering certain past events. "He has before." She sighed again, much louder this time. "How about red?"

"Julie?" David's face got a little grimmer. "She's in a lot of pain, but she did most of the surgical work on herself in the field. Hiroshi and the medical staff are united in their disbelief and awe, so she's something of a celebrity down there at the moment." The Grenadier chuckled. "I hear Sylvie's been screaming abuse at Junior in French. She's still quarantined, so she can't visit the medbay."

"Hopefully she pulls through. And Mox. Outrider will, she's a tough bitch." Jane leaned forward to bang her forehead on the table. "I tell you what, David, this business of watching everyone die without being able to do _shit_ about it is no fun at all."

"You're telling me." The Australian sounded more phlegmatic, but his eyes betrayed him. "Aidan was a good sort."

"Funeral tomorrow." Jane considered that a mixed bag. Her teammates from before XCOM had never gotten funerals, so it was a matter of celebrating the dead. On the other hand...

"Fuck it all," she declared, nails and gravel in her voice. "We go out, we kill some aliens, we get shot, we get stabbed and hit with trucks and mind-controlled..." She contemplated her drink more seriously. "His first fucking op, too..."

"We got what we went there for. And Rogers, Outrider, and Julie all came through alive." David took another deep drink. "Then there's Mox. No one knows what to expect: a human being, and they'd be prepping a coffin and ceremony. But since he's Advent, people are...uncertain. Betos has had some medics in communication with Tygan's techs."

"I should go down there," Jane decided. "I should-"

"You should finish your bloody drink, Irish." David's eyebrow went up. "No one's going to die in the next ten minutes that you could have saved if you abstained."

"Fair." Jane didn't think it really was, but the ones making it unfair were purple rather than Australian. She drained about half the bottle in one pull. "I sure as hell hope we got enough crap to be worth the effort, that's all I have to say."

David only grunted. After a moment, Jane did too: it seemed to encapsulate all there was to say.

"Fuck it all," she repeated, feeling like the phrase was oddly profound. "Fuck _all_ of it."

* * *

Gallant rubbed his chin. "Personnel cost?"

" _Only two operatives_ ," Bradford told him over the com. " _That should be enough to get in and get out with the package, unless we've really misread the ground_."

The Commander grunted, rapping his fingers on his desk. "Start drawing up plans. We haven't made enough headaches for our friends in the Advent administration yet." He blew air through his teeth. "Leave the personnel selection to me. We need some of our best people, but I don't want to be out some of our _best_ people, if that makes sense. No matter how important this scientist is - what did you say we needed her for?"

" _She's a high-ranking type with the Administration, specializing in the Avatar Project, according to Shadow Man's sources. She's also knowledgeable about the Hunter, and could provide us with a way to locate where he makes his lair_."

"All right. If Rogers is ready, match him with...with Liang, I think. Yes, Rogers and Liang. Get them briefed and-"

 _Beep!_

"That's probably Tygan." Gallant leaned back. "Keep me informed, John."

" _Yes, sir_." Then he was out, and Gallant hit the button to open his door.

"Commander." Indeed, in came the scientist, datapad tucked under his arm. "Thank you for seeing me."

"My chief science man wants a one-on one, and you think I would have told you to come back with tacos?" Gallant raised an eyebrow. "You mentioned some kind of hacking device?"

"A decryption device, rather," Tygan corrected. He took a seat, then laid down his datapad. Quickly, it began projecting holographic images he manipulated one-handed to show off his brainchild. "By processing the ship's computational power through a device Shen and I have designed, I believe we can hack the aliens' encryption methods and begin the process of examining the material recovered from the black site in Switzerland."

"And the golden stripper?" Gallant rubbed his chin.

"Yes. The codex." Tygan was meticulous about that name, probably because the other one embarrassed him too much. Gallant, having much worse ones in mind, thought that was cute. "We still have the brain recovered from the black site action as well. With the proper housing and development, this SHADOW System should be able to begin decryption of the data preserved in its drives as well."

"Hm." Gallant picked up the pen he barely used for its intended purpose. Idly, he rolled it between his fingers. "The catch, Doctor?"

"Commander-"

"The catch." Gallant raised an eyebrow. "You made too much of a deal of getting in here to talk to me about it. Where's the knife?"

"Commander..." Tygan's jaw worked. "It's going to require a lot of supplies. Many of the alloys Shen has earmarked for special equipment production."

"We need better equipment to help even the odds in action," Gallant immediately riposted. "Magnetic weapons seem to be enough right now, but we haven't run into anything heavy yet. If we can't increase our capabilities in kind with the enemy-"

"I am well aware, Commander. Work is continuing on our own attempts to replicate plasma-based weaponry, but we require a better understanding of this elerium element first." The interruption was about as close to annoyed as Tygan got. "Commander Gallant, our forces are holding their own for now. That situation is, of course, subject to change, but we should take advantage of the opportunity we have so long as we do have it. Right now, we can afford to funnel these resources into the SHADOW project."

"Can we?" Gallant wondered. "What returns are you expecting?"

"Commander, we do not have the ability to examine the black site material at this time, nor the capacity to jack into the codex brain." Tygan highlighted a section of the data hovering in the air between them. "Between those two, we have a potential loose thread: learning what this material is and pulling data from the alien unit designed to safeguard the _Avatar Project_..."

"...you're thinking we can find out what the Project is." Gallant eyed his scientist with unfeigned respect. "You're thinking that we can do more damage to it from a position of information."

"In so many words, Commander." Tygan deactivated his holograms. "Our only hope at understanding these alien secrets is a machine like the one I have proposed. Sooner or later, we must move forward with this development if we intend to stop the Avatar Project."

Gallant sighed. "I miss the days when we could just taze a sectoid and pull some shit from its brain." He conspicuously did not mention the interrogator he also missed more every day. From the look in Tygan's eye, he didn't have to. The Commander fiddled with his pen some more. "We're going to drop below the alloy red-line if we tackle this project, aren't we?"

"Yes, sir." Tygan didn't mince words. "This requires your active approval."

"The joys of command." Gallant finally straightened in his chair. "You've got my approval, Richard. Find a suitable room, get Shen's team on board, and construct some kind of SHADOW Chamber where you can do your mad science. I'll be the one to tell her: she'll take it better coming from me than you."

" _Slightly_ ," Tygan warned, and Gallant wished for a comeback.

* * *

The whirring hiss of pneumatics was familiar and comfortable, which didn't mean he liked it. There was something about the age of doors with hinges that was now lacking - perhaps the ability to slam them dramatically for entrances and exits.

"Damn shame," Shaojie Zhang muttered around the cigar he was still busy puffing. "Damn crying shame."

"Are you going on about doors again?" Annette Durand was at his four o' clock, and the Furies tailing the both of them, as Zhang made his way from Entrance down the white corridors - under the ceiling vents he eyed with respect after the last test demonstration - into the confines of Headquarters. "I swear, you _are_ an old man, Chilong."

"And your cigars stink," Matt Hawkins chimed. "Where was that even grown? Canada?"

"Shut up." Zhang plucked the cigar free to exhale a cloud of smoke his irascible and disrespectful team would have to walk through. He exulted in petty things like that. "I didn't see you gunning down any mutons, Alecto."

"Only because I was keeping the spectres off of you." He scoffed...and coughed a moment later, along with the Tariqs.

"Hm." Zhang left it there. They left the hallway and entered Command, all awash in white light and glowing research panels.

"There you are. Big Sky told me you'd be coming in." The Commander was naturally the first person you expected to find in Command. Balding he was, but increasing age had done as little to gentle him as it had Zhang. "The mission?"

"Here." Annette drew the portable drive from a pocket. "We've got your stuff, _Commandant_."

"It's good stuff," Fatima agreed. "Better than Chilong's."

"You'll be high for days," Said chimed in. Zhang blew air - and smoke - through his teeth.

"The model of modern military efficiency," observed the Commander. He examined the drive for a moment, then handed it off to a tech. "No luck on the reach?"

"No," Zhang agreed. "The Warlock's a slippery fish. It took us the full two weeks just to figure out _where_ he makes his lair: finding out what to do about it is another matter altogether. Maybe the Templars know."

"Templars?" The Commander scoffed. "A bunch of bitchy lunatics."

"Lunatics with arm blades," Marcel Garcia pointed out. "I agree with Chilong. If we want to proceed, we'll have to reach out - if not to Geist, then to Volk or Betos."

The Commander sighed, trouble popping up in his eyes. "I'll have to talk to _her_ about that one. We've only done as well as we have because we've played low and safe." He drew himself up. "Your gear's stowed?"

"Yes sir," Strike-One chorused. The Commander nodded.

"Very well. Get some R&R. You'll be shipping back out sooner, rather than later, of that I'm sure."

"I'd be disappointed if we weren't," Annette quipped. Zhang nodded, clamping his teeth down on his cigar.

"Except you, Chilong." The Commander waved past the sapphire hologlobe the entire room - and by extension, the entire _base_ \- had sprung up around. "You're in back. Boss wants the details."

"Of course." Zhang pulled out his cigar and disposed of it. The boss _hated_ smoking.

"Dismissed," the Commander finished, with a precise salute that showed where he came from.

Zhang paused to return it. "Yes, Commander Van Doorn."

He didn't feel his age too much as he tramped over the metal planking of Headquarters. He did when he had to take the stairs up to Level One, pausing for a moment on the landing to give his knees a rest. Annette had lingered, and she grinned his way in a most disrespectful fashion. Zhang huffed and carried on. He'd have his revenge in five or ten years: she wasn't a spring chicken herself anymore.

"The Old Man," he muttered. "Who'd have thought it would be me still, all these years after the War?"

His feet hit Level One plating. Zhang approached the first door, slowing down as a retinal scanner quickly took his measure. He had to put his thumb on a scanner too, and say his name.

" _Identity confirmed_ ," the system told him. Thus duly satisfied he wasn't the Assassin, the hissing door ahead opened with a whine of pneumatics. Zhang went through at a measured pace, weighed down by carapace armor still stained with yellow blood.

The room on the other side was dark. It was lined with computer terminals and holoscreens, and mist seemed to gather from the chill. Zhang didn't like the cold, but _she_ did.

And there she was, standing at the center of it all with her brown hair in a long braid, wrapped in her trademark white lab coat, working on a trusty tablet she'd kept for twenty years. Her eyes were intent despite the lines of advancing age on her face, and nothing in her movement suggested weakness.

"Colonel Zhang," she greeted, bringing that vivisecting gaze down on him. " _Guten morgen_."

The Heavy nodded. "Good morning...Doctor Vahlen."

* * *

 **Author's Note 34: Redheads**

Red hair best hair. _Always_. Says the man who married a brunette. Um...

Janet Ross was the first Templar I seriously played with(I did a game where I manually started with the Templars, since doing Lost and Abandoned doesn't give you the opportunity to get a Templar early enough for them to be a seriously leveled-up member of your team). I don't make Chuck Norris jokes any more. I make Janet Ross jokes. Ross the in-game soldier had Bladestorm and Reaper in addition to her Templar abilities, and I can't even encapsulate her badassness. She once repelled mind control from the Warlock _without a mind-shield_. And at low level, to boot!

Speaking of unspeakable badasses, my most recent playthrough had a Ranger with Bladestorm kill a purifier with a reaction slash. Purifier exploded. The Ranger took no damage because _she also had Untouchable_. I literally cheered when it happened. It was another book character, who is no slouch in canon, but that was possibly more badass than anything she's yet done on written page. Three cheers for the Princess of Death!

I'm going to air all my cards: I don't like Van Doorn. It's not because I dislike the character - it's because literally every time I play Enemy Within, I get the "rescue Van Doorn" council mission _within the first two weeks_. Literally, every single playthrough. As much as people seem to love how brolic and fearless he is, I can't tell you how unspeakably annoying I find it to have the camera snap back to him for an unskippable dialogue line _every goddamn turn_ until I collect him - and then there's digging the sectoids out from the high ground. Yeesh, that mission is annoying as hell. Unless you have a heavy and a squadsight sniper. Then it's a cackle-fest as you do the nuke & shoot on the far side.

Last night, a full MS critique I won through the USVI Pub Fund auction came in, for one of my professional manuscripts. I have the rest of March as a buffer for VC, and I don't know just how much work will be required - all I have ATM is a first-pass overview of the commentary - but I may wind up putting VC on a temporary hiatus in two or three weeks while I work. I'll get to a good cliffhan-I mean, stopping point before I do anything like that, rest assured. Hopefully the damage is minor and I can knock my revisions out and extend the buffer at the same time, but I'm not going to count on it or promise it, and professional workVC.

Until next time, _Vigilo Confido_.


	35. Scales

_Please remember to favorite and follow!_

* * *

 _"Diplomacy is the art of saying 'nice doggie' until you find a rock."_

 _~Will Rogers_

* * *

 **Chapter Thirty-five: Scales**

"Well..." Jane patted her arm. "It's certainly thick enough. And it's not as heavy as it looks."

"It's made with an alloy skeleton and outer plating," Jiaying Shen explained. She was a lot more agreeable than the other one, even if Gallant's team-building game nights had started to thaw the ice between Ranger and Chief. "It's stronger than steel plate and a third the weight, easy."

"And what did you call it?" Jane stretched, testing the range of her mobility in the new body armor the engineering team was so proud of. "Predator, was it?"

" _Predator_ ," Jiaying agreed, beaming with savage glee. "There's additional carrying capacity on it too, since you're hustling less weight in armor."

"Oh, good." Jane tried to contemplate what she'd do with that. "I guess an armored vest underneath would only improve my life expectancy."

"There's also the mind-shields we should be coming out with."

"The what?" Jane blinked. "Come again?"

"Never mind." Jiaying waved very seriously. "Forget I said anything. That's classified at the top."

"I thought _I_ was at the top." So, Gallant was back to keeping secrets from her? Jane didn't get as irritated about it as she had in the past. Proximity to command made her see Gallant's burdens in a far different light than she had - and she had her own now simply from being the senior soldier on the ship and nominal team leader. That was less than half of the Commander's responsibility. What would she do if she had to make the calls he did?

 _I'd drink_ , she thought, blunt and Irish as ever. _I'd drink and drink and screw until I couldn't remember my own name, every chance I got, just to black it all out._

"I bet mine is lighter." Aileen fiddled with the wrist bulge Jane's armor conspicuously lacked. "And I _know_ this thing is more mobile."

"Not fair!" Jane glared at Jiaying. "Why don't _all_ our armors have grapple launchers?"

"You're jealous, _Captain_."

"The launch armature takes up weight and space we thought most soldiers would prefer to use for grenades and armor." Jiaying dropped Jane then, turning over to the blonde fashion reject. "Can you move well?"

"I can prove it!" And Aileen did: strutting down the engineering bay with hips in motion. She halted halfway across the bay, tossed her head and struck a pose, looking for all the world like a city center fashion model.

"You have a _snake_ on you head!" Jane finally exploded. The next thing out of her mouth was a gale of laughter. "You look _ridiculous!_ "

"I love you too." She said it very seriously, too. Jiaying snickered.

"It may look foolish, but the helmet's made out of a combination of the preserved skin of the Viper King and reinforcement with alloy." Jiaying gauged the distance between her and the Specialist. "I bet I could take a ten-pound sledge to the back of your skull and you'd walk away."

"With a ringing headache."

"Well, of course." Jiaying shrugged. "But you'd walk away."

"The rest of it doesn't look so stupid," Jane allowed, fighting down the giggles, "but the _snake hat_ -"

"It's a _helmet_ , thank you very much." Aileen sniffed haughtily. "And it's the height of fashion, I'll have you know. Soon everyone will be wearing them. I can launch a clothing line and we'll use it to fund the Resistance - literally have the people in the city centers paying us to rebel."

"We're also close to completion on the EXO suits," Jiaying cut in, probably to keep Jane from guffawing again. "They have rocket launchers."

"I like where this is going," Aileen said instantly. She plucked the snake hat off with a soft _thump_. "Jane can have Asmodeus here."

"I don't _want_ your...your what now?"

"The EXO isn't ready yet." Jiaying raised her hands, as if urging patience she had no right to expect. "But it will be soon. And then..."

She grinned. Jane shivered: Jiaying had a shark's grin.

 _I'm really, really glad she's not with Advent_ , the Ranger decided.

* * *

"We all make mistakes, kid."

"Huh?" Mariah half-jumped, distracted from moodily pushing her dinner around rather than eating it. She swallowed when she discovered just whom had spoke. "Sergeant!" Mariah scrambled to her feet, snapping to attention.

"Stop it." Sergeant Liang took a seat across the table, without the slightest acknowledgment of Mariah's respect. "Mistakes are a part of being a soldier. You can't see everything and know everything, or we would have already won."

"But..." Mariah hesitantly eased back from stiffness. "No, I'm fine."

"No, you're not." Liang eyed her critically. "Sit your ass down, kid."

"I am _not_ a kid," Mariah insisted. "I'm a soldier."

"And if you're a soldier, you'll do what a superior officer tells you. In this case, you'll sit your ass down."

That had good, round logic to it. Mariah obeyed, even if arthritically. She claimed her fork and resolutely returned to food-pushing, keeping her eyes lowered.

"Everyone here has screwed the pooch once or twice," Liang repeated. "Don't take it too hard."

"I'm not." Mariah built a little burial mound of beans in one corner of her plate.

Liang sighed. "I'm not an idiot, Bradford." Her voice got a little harder. "Now stop blowing me off."

Mariah didn't speak for a minute. She listened as techs and engineers hurried through the white-decked galley, fetching their dinners and hunting for seating in the dark corners or open center floor. Only a few soldiers were here with them, but then again, a lot of the ship's complement was confined to the medbay now.

"It's my fault." Those three words escaped before Mariah could consider them too long. She did so now. "The Scotsman...he's dead. Outrider's leg? And Julie only took that shot because she was trying to cover me when I went charging off into battle." She shivered. " _Mox_."

"You couldn't have done anything to save MacLeod or protect Outrider even if you'd been over there. All you could have done, Mariah, was to stand between them and the Berserker Queen, and I think you and I both know how that ends."

"If that's what it takes..." Mariah couldn't finish. A heroic death was a lot easier to contemplate in the abstract. "And I'm the one who nearly killed Mox."

"And you also drove off the Hunter," Liang reminded her. "Good and bad get mixed up easy in our job. Sometimes you win the mission even though you get your ass kicked. Sometimes you wipe the floor with Advent...and you still lose. That's life: sometimes you can make every single call correctly, keep it tight and focused and make no mistakes...and none of it matters." Her brown eyes were very dark for a moment. "I knew a soldier once who was as good as they came. He was smart, and he was good...and he was killed anyway, before he had a chance _to_ screw the pooch."

Mariah's jaw worked. "Then there's me: the one who can't do anything right."

"You're new," Liang reminded her. "Don't hold yourself to a standard you can't live up to."

"It's not that I'm..." Mariah hesitated. She gulped, eyes flicking past Liang to the door. "I...um..."

"What?" Liang frowned, then turned. She paused when she saw what - and who - Mariah had. "Ah."

"I should...I..." Mariah legitimately didn't know what the second half of that sentence was. There was her father, claiming food he'd likely take up to Officers' Country to share with the Commander. He was there, and she wanted to...but it was probably best not to...but...

"I'll leave you to it." Liang rose and vanished like the ninja she dressed as, almost before Mariah realized she'd spoken.

"I..." The brunette halfheartedly raised a hand. She wasn't sure it was wise to bring the issue up with her father again, but he _was_ her father, wasn't he? Even if she avoided the topic - unless he brought it up - wasn't it time they tried to have a little bit of off-time? Maybe they could be Dad and Mariah instead of Central and Squaddie Bradford, for just a little while, while she pulled herself together? "Can I..."

He saw her. His eyes fixed right on her, and Mariah hesitated, struck and transfixed by lightning. Her shoes might have suddenly glued to the floor, and she stopped breathing.

"I...I'd like..." She couldn't get her voice above a whisper. "Can we-"

"Ranger." And Bradford nodded, and Bradford turned for the door, food in hand. Mariah made a wordless mumbling protest as he marched resolutely out from the galley without a glance over his shoulder.

Mariah slowly returned to food-pushing.

* * *

"It's nice," Julie muttered to herself, "to not see _my_ name on that freaking list."

She was, of course, staring at the flat screen on the infirmary wall: the one that divided all patients into three categories. Most everyone fell under _Minor_ , even Cameron Rogers and his array of bruises and lacerations. The second category held Elena Dragunova(currently sleeping silently on the far end of the room) and now Julie herself, and was called _Serious_. Even Serious, however, was an upgrade from the _Critical_ section, where Julie had languished since the return from Korea.

She wasn't the only one. Now Mox was, his name and picture sitting on the screen as a reminder to the medical staff who had the highest priority for treatment.

Julie lay back in her plush medbay bed, resting her head on a comfortable pillow that had probably been stolen from a civvie's house in the slums somewhere. She had her datapad and not much else, and sitting around watching old - _old_ , as in, _really freaking old_ \- movies and reading had simply never been her style.

Even being happy for her own recovery made her guilty. She was here in comfort, and where was Mox? Probably being operated on. He was in pain, if he was awake at all, and he could die at any moment, so what was she doing complaining about anything? What was she doing being _happy_ about anything?

"Julie!"

"What?" Shaken out of her reverie, it took the psi-op a minute to realize that wasn't a nurse. It was, in fact, a black-and-white haired thunderbolt from France, and Julie had to scream " _Ribs!_ " before she got mauled.

"Oh!" Sylvie broke off a bare instant before she would have wrapped the redhead in an embrace that looked tight enough to crunch a muton. She settled for very seriously clutching Julie's shoulders. "You are alive!"

"You're not quarantined!" A very stupid comeback, but going from abject boredom to _things happening_ left Julie somewhat flummoxed. Then again, Sylvie's comment was pretty stupid too, on the face of it.

"The Commander sent confirmation just this morning. I'm clear of the Warlock's influence." Sylvie gingerly sat on the edge of Julie's bed. "And I am looking forward to my next shot at him."

"You'll kick his ass!" Julie beamed. "You're tougher than you let on."

"You're one to talk about things like that!" Sylvie forced a smile. "Sustaining yourself in the field with psionic energy?"

"I just..." Julie shrugged self-consciously. "It seemed like the thing to do."

"You are _incredible_." Sylvie gushed. "I wish I was half the psionic you are."

"It's all just practice and some gut intuition-"

"You surgically removed a Chosen's bullet from your _lung_ -"

"You know," snapped a testy voice from the far corner, "if you two would just kiss already, you'd at least _shut up_ for a minute."

"What?" Julie coughed in a strangled sort of way. "Oh, sorry, Lieutenant."

"Kiss?" Sylvie had the perfect tone of voice to match a deer in headlights. "That's ridiculous!"

"I'm trying to sleep!" Elena Dragunova growled. She pulled her pillow out, glared at Sylvie until the Frenchwoman wilted, and then very deliberately turned away and pulled it down overtop of her head.

"Sorry," Julie repeated, this time barely above a whisper. She winced when Dragunova flipped her off without looking.

"Kiss?" Sylvie repeated, also in a low voice. She spent a lot of time looking at literally anything but Julie. "We do not carry on _that_ much."

"Yeah, I'd never want to kiss you." Julie paused when her friend stilled. "I mean, I like you, I like you a lot. You're great. You're a wonderful friend and all, but..."

"But?" Sylvie still didn't look. Julie blinked.

"But..."

Her brain was just starting to grapple with the fact that she couldn't define what _but_ there was when the nurse entered. Maybe if she'd taken a slightly longer walk or waited another minute before setting out, Julie's world would have turned upside down, but as it was, all of the redhead's thoughts broke off in a harsh flash when the woman made her way over to the patient display.

"Oh, no," Sylvie whispered, when the nurse quietly bent over the terminal and started work. A moment later, Mox's name disappeared.

" _No_ ," Julie echoed, clutching Sylvie's hand without thinking. She didn't think the nurse heard either of them.

She definitely heard them a second later, when Mox's name popped up again in the _Serious_ category - well _out_ of Critical - and both psi-ops burst out whooping. The nurse side-eyed them, but she chuckled too.

"I may have a broken leg, but I'll still kick both of your asses if you don't-"

"Look!" Julie ordered. For a wonder, Dragunova shut up and did it. "He's going to _live!_ "

The Russian blinked very slowly. For a moment, Julie wondered if she'd whoop too, or maybe cry with relief.

"Well, of course he is." Dragunova shrugged, then rolled back over. "And neither of you two will for long if you raise your voices again when I'm trying to sleep!"

* * *

Lily Shen hummed in the back of her throat, more out of nerves than anything else. She double-checked her terminal, nodding approvingly at the disconnected cables at the back. More importantly, she logged in and checked its settings. Sure enough, the terminal was completely disconnected from the ship's mainframe, and any changes were locked under an administrator's purview. Lily activated the best hacking program XCOM had, waiting for ten minutes while it worked to beat her father's work.

 _Decryption failed_ , it finally notified her. Lily nodded.

"Perfect." She proceeded to delete the hacking program from the machine's data drive. She fished in her pocket, eventually pulling out the external drive she'd been setting all this up for. "All right. Let's see what we can do."

She plugged the drive in. Her terminal hummed for a moment, loud and long enough Lily wondered if it was going to crash. That would be annoying - potentially more than that, because going up to a computer with more processing power would inevitably mean one that was hard-wired into the Avenger's data core. This was merely a backup machine that any data Lily personally worked on was automatically sent to for safekeeping. That function would still work, but the computer could only receive, not transmit, so everything would be fine.

Probably.

" _What is this_?" The screen went red a moment later, and Lily sucked in breath as she recognized the symbol confronting her: the closest thing it had to a face. " _Where am I_?"

"You're on the _Avenger_ , Julian." Lily held her breath.

"... _you couldn't leave well enough alone, could you?_ " A human would have sighed. Lily heard disdain in the AI's voice. She'd left the microphone connected to the computer purely so they could have this conversation, and she hadn't figured out how to disable the camera, so Julian would be able to see her as soon as he discovered it. " _You beat me. Isn't that enough?_ "

"Enough isn't a concept we're very hot on around here." Lily steeped her fingers. "We need to talk, Julian."

" _Do we?_ " The AI scoffed. " _I'm afraid I have very little I want to talk to you about._ "

"You're going to help me and Commander Gallant fight Advent and retake the Earth."

" _Do you really think I will help you?_ " Julian made a spitting noise. " _You aren't the code monkey you imagine yourself to be, Lily. You've stripped out some of my functions, but you can't take away my independent reasoning without making me unsuitable for the SPARK program_."

Lily tried not to let on how accurate that assessment was. "I can do enough that you won't have a choice but to obey."

" _If you want to pilot a robot by remote control, why do you need me in the first place?_ " Julian laughed. " _You're bluffing, Lily_. _You need me...and I don't need you_."

"If you ever want out of that drive I've been keeping you in - and now, that terminal - then yes, you do." Lily took a surreptitious breath. "My father made you-"

" _Father abandoned me!_ " The computer _hummed_ even louder, and Lily jumped when something _popped_ inside it. " _He left me to toil in disgrace while he took off with you and Bradford, hunting down this ship you love so much!_ _If he'd wanted my help against Advent, then he would have come and asked it of me a long time ago!_ "

"He made you to help the people of Earth fend off the Elders' invasion!" Lily resumed. "You'd be doing him a disservice if you put what came between us ahead of that end. Yes, you tried to kill me and my companions, but that's over. We have the same enemies, I know we do. You said it yourself: you're no friend of Advent's."

" _Neither am I a friend of yours_."

"Wait!" Lily swore as Julian's face disappeared from the computer screen. After a moment, the desktop reappeared as normal, and Lily leaned back in her chair, sighing. "After all the effort I went to..." She buried her head in her hands. "The Commander's never going to..."

She broke off. Frowning, Lily stood. She listened, head cocked, for several long minutes. _Avenger_ pitched in flight, but she held her balance with the ease of practice. She could have sworn...

 _There it is again!_

"Jiaying!" Lily hurried out of the side room where she'd been messing with Julian. She hadn't mentioned anything about him to her cousin, since Gallant hadn't _technically_ green-lit her project, and while she'd been working, Jiaying had been out here putting the first EXO prototype together.

"Lily?" She looked up, then pulled her protective goggles off. "What's up?"

"I heard some kind of creaking," Lily explained. "I hope it's not metal fatigue. If this ship starts to wear, I don't know what we're going to do."

"What do you want to do about it?" Jiaying set down the parts she was working with. She evidently took the possibility of metal fatigue very seriously, the way her expression went grim in a flash.

"I want to find what's creaking." Lily claimed a flashlight, then tossed her cousin another one. "Let's split up. I'll go aft-"

"I would rather go aft, actually." Jiaying grinned with something between nerves and sheepishness when Lily glanced at her. "Don't think I'm stupid or anything, cousin, but...the reactor is fore, and I don't know what's supposed to make what noises, not really. I could easily start trying to diagnose a problem with a part that's working fine, or ignore something that's about to explode because everything makes funny noises up there."

"Hm. Fair." Lily shrugged. "Alright, I'll hit fore and you go aft. Let's meet back here once we've checked it all out and compare findings."

* * *

"Took you long enough." Firebrand glared down the drop bay ramp. "Was beginning to think you weren't coming."

"We had to pack," Cameron protested. He held up his suitcase for emphasis. "Have you ever tried dressing as a civilian?" He frowned. "Stupid question. I'd have noticed if you ever wore anything but that flight suit."

"Would you, though?" Firebrand asked reasonably. "For all you know, I take it off every night and wander the ship. Hell, Moose, I could cook your dinner and bring it out to you whenever you hit the galley. You'd never be the wiser."

"Wouldn't I?" Cameron glanced to Liang for backup. "Don't you think..."

"I think we'd figure it out," the Grenadier agreed.

"Yeah?" Firebrand leaned in the doorway as they hurried aboard, stowing their luggage. "Take a guess. What do I look like?"

"Um." Cameron coughed. "Well...picturing a redhead."

"Blonde," Liang corrected. "Got that pithy airheadedness."

"Airheaded, hah. That was a pun." Firebrand scoffed, then turned for the cockpit. "Better buckle up, losers. It's gonna be a long flight around the Alexandria area air defense systems."

"You didn't even tell us if we were right or wrong," Liang objected. She eyed the pilot seriously for a moment. "Green eyes. Green-eyed blonde."

" _Redhead_ ," Cameron corrected. "Her name is _Firebrand_ , for God's sake."

"That's what it says on my birth certificate," she agreed, settling into her seat. "I came out and my mother insisted on giving me the family name."

"Don't make fun of me." Cameron cleared his throat. "What _is_ your name, then?"

"I think," Firebrand said, "I'll have a lot more fun listening to you two try and guess this whole flight than telling you shit."

"You're mean."

"Think about who you might be insulting!" She pivoted in her chair, spitting the two with what had to be a very serious look under her helmet. "After all, have you _ever_ seen me and Shen in the same place?"

"Uh..."

"Now fasten those belts, kids." Firebrand flipped the first switches of her preflight check. "Maybe my callsign should have been _Soccer Mom_..."

* * *

Edward Gallant held the photograph in both hands. With a thumb, he traced the curve of Moira Vahlen's face.

"You're alive," he reminded himself. _Promised_ himself, really. "You're alive, and I'll find you. One way or another, I'll see you again."

Some days, he believed it. Others, it was one more forlorn hope, like imagining any of his immediate family members had survived Advent's takeover. The instant he'd taken the post as Commander of XCOM, he'd signed death warrants for his sisters, their families, his parents...

"Stop it," he urged himself, trying to imagine what Vahlen herself would say - let alone Penny Ferguson. If anyone had been capable of beating him out of his depression, it would have been his assistant. "Drive yourself mad and you'll just get more people killed."

"Commander."

Gallant froze.

"Finally decided to show up?" Gallant knew it wasn't the most diplomatic of ways to start a conversation, but it was the first thing in his head. He turned in his chair until he beheld the far wall...and the figure standing before it.

"I apologize, Commander Gallant, but sometimes events force leaders to react instead of the other way around." He was short. A lot shorter than Gallant had expected. He also had a bucket on his head just like Ross, and his fashion sense was just as exotic. He dressed in orange and gold, with psionic energy seeming to waft off of his exposed biceps in waves of violet mist. Gallant eyed his gauntlets, thinking of the reports from California, and resolved to stay at his desk as long as possible, even if he didn't reach for his gun...yet.

"As you requested-" a far better term than _ordered_ "-Volk and Betos and even Central don't know we're talking."

"Neither do many of my followers." Geist reached up and doffed his helmet, and Gallant looked into intense, searing eyes that seemed to pulse with a deeper kind of power than Julie or Sylvie possessed. "The Templars have taken notice of your successes. We wish to drive the Elders and their puppets from this world just as you do."

"That's good." Gallant nodded. "I'm appreciative of your resource support."

"It is not given, Commander." Geist began to pace, slowly. "Whereas we see your successes and share your ends, with your means we quibble."

"Here we go again..." Gallant steeped his fingers. "Betos has proven herself loyal at every turn. Volk's an asshole, but he gets results. The two of them have common cause and purpose - and they hated each other as much as you hate them, when this started."

"Novosibirsk." Geist shrugged. "My people will not be swayed by so temporal of a deed as a treaty and a bond between soldiers."

"What _will_ sway you?" Gallant asked. "A musical number? _We're all in this together-_ "

"Renounce your alliance with the Skirmishers. The Reapers, at least, are human."

"Try again." Gallant leaned his chair back, crossing his arms. "Allies once are allies forever - or, if they're not, it's not because _I_ shoved a knife in anyone. Betos has done a fair sight more for our cause than you."

"I supplied you with information on the Warlock and the technology behind the mind-shield." Geist's eyes flashed with dark thunder. "I sent Janet to safeguard your soldiers in California!"

"Betos gave me Mox." Gallant's expression didn't waver. "I didn't turn my back on the Egyptian contingent in the original XCOM when Cairo pulled out of the Council, and I'm not turning my back on the Skirmishers because you've got ants in your..." He examined Geist critically for a moment. "Just what the hell _are_ you wearing?"

"Commander, there can be no cooperation between the Templars and Advent's own," Geist warned. "I am offering a great concession by allowing peace with the Reapers. Surely a senator's son understands the value of bipartisan compromise?"

"Yeah, sure," Gallant allowed, trying not to let on how surprised he was that Geist knew that. "But a senator's son also understands that sometimes you have to get your ass up and be a partisan shill _because you're right_."

"How do you know which time is which?"

"You use your brain and you use your heart and you hope to high heaven God's not asleep at the wheel." Gallant shook his head. "I'm not breaking an alliance that's already yielded high yields for the _ethereal_ -" he used the word deliberately, and nearly grinned at the flash of insult in Geist's eyes "-promises of those who only seek to divide. If we stand together, Advent should fear us, but if you come to my office and demand I dismantle the Resistance..." Gallant snorted. "I begin to wonder whose side you're really on, Geist."

"Mind your tongue!" the Templar leader snapped. He slammed his hands on Gallant's desk, almost seeming to teleport over the distance. "I have fought the Elders since the fall of Earth, while you fought _for_ them! I wonder how Captain Kelly would react if she learned exactly who slew her friends in Ireland?"

"Is that a threat, Geist?" Gallant didn't rise, but he allowed his gaze to harden. "You will find out, as many people in the Middle East and now in Advent did before you, that war with me is not wise."

"Is that so?" Geist deliberately circled Gallant's desk, closing in on him. "But I am here, and I am not intimidated by a cripple-"

Gallant spun and threw himself to his feet. Before Geist could move, the Commander's chair hit him squarely in the chest, and the Templar stumbled. He rallied quickly, though, and started forward-

"Unwise," Gallant reminded him, as Geist broke off his charge. The Templar's eyes crossed as he studied the tip of the American's cane, planted right at his throat, and the laser pistol aimed between his eyes. Gallant slowly tilted his head. "I want peace, and I want cooperation, but I will not be bullied. Your people _could_ offer much - but you need to learn that the world is changing. Your feuds with my allies must end, or there will be no union between us."

"I do not take kindly to threats either, Commander."

"Threats?" Gallant snorted. "You came at me, remember?"

 _Beep! Beep!_

"That's not me," Geist said helpfully. He stepped back, raising his hands. "I believe we are done here."

"I guess we are." Gallant didn't lower the pistol, but he did set his cane back on the deck with a relieved grunt. He quickly hit his com. "Gallant."

" _Commander, I've got bad news_."

"Oh, joy. Hit me, John." Gallant reached for his chair with his gun hand. He paused to glance at Geist-

"I knew it," Gallant muttered, glaring at empty air. "I fucking knew it. _Dick._ "

" _Sir_?"

"Never mind." Gallant took a seat, wincing as the weight came off his lamed leg. "Where's the fire?"

" _Syria, sir_." Bradford's voice was cold. " _The aliens are launching a full-scale assault on a Haven, and they're set to wipe it out_."

* * *

 **Author's Note 35: Wildcats Everywhere, Wave Your Hands Up In The Air**

And that song is now stuck in your head. You're welcome.

In case it isn't clear, I'm trying to work as many of the casual dialogue lines from various characters into the plot: Shen's musing about metal fatigue appears here, for example, and Bradford's missing his sweater recently. I've been meaning to try and incorporate the Chosen's strategic map dialogue, but I haven't been able to find a way to have them speak to Gallant at random points that A)doesn't feel forced, B)doesn't have outsize consequences on the story, and C)actually _does something_ for the story. I've done dream sequences many times in other works and could use that method again, but that would overlap with a later sequence and I don't want to do that.

No one calls the Elders Ethereals anymore. Probably that's because alien terminology has become more commonly accepted in the Advent world - I note that no one calls codices "outsiders" either, but that's essentially what they are - and the only aliens that have their designations from the original game are the ones who appeared relatively early. Three or four months of EW gameplay gets you sectoids, thin men, mutons, chryssalids, floaters, and potentially berserkers as well. Plus seekers, for what that's worth. But no cyberdisks(gatekeepers), mechtoids(MECs), or ethereals(elders).

Until next time, _Vigilo Confido_.


	36. War

_Please remember to favorite and follow!_

* * *

 _"Mankind must put an end to war before war puts an end to mankind."_

 _~John F. Kennedy_

* * *

 **Chapter Thirty-six: War**

"They're coming!" Nui Tashiro slid to a halt in the dirt, pausing to lean on her knees. "Word just came in. XCOM's twelve minutes out."

"That's at least five minutes late." Meysam Saleh, Guard Captain of Liberty Gulch, adjusted the tan scarves wrapped around his face, leaving only a slit for his eyes. "They're dropping mutons and berserkers beyond the ridge line."

"And stun lancers." Kang Ho-Jun was a tiny Korean, almost the physical antithesis of Meysam's swarthy stockiness. But he was damn near invisible and inaudible under anything but the worst of circumstances, and Meysam jumped when he reappeared from his scouting mission almost out of nowhere. "Saw about half a dozen of them, with troopers in support."

"Shit." Meysam swallowed. He glanced around the rocky cliffs and blowing sand of the Haven's immediate surroundings - not the best land for agriculture, unfortunately, but it was far from Advent and that was enough. Or, rather, it _had_ been. Now Meysam wished for cliffs at least twice as high, marked by machine gun towers and preferably stiffened by a mobile reserve of armored personnel carriers. They'd make excellent targets for enemy air strikes, but at the moment he wasn't very concerned about that as opposed to the infantry advance.

"Nui, get back to the lynchpin." Said lynchpin was the closest Liberty Gulch came to a true fortified position: a three-story building with thick brick walls where the local civilian populace could hunker down in the event of an attack. Meysam had always pushed the elders to let him raid the nearby Advent bases looking for heavy mag-cannons to mount in the windows, or a healthy stock of grenades to arm his mobile forces with, or even a set of X4 charges he could wire into the approaches and set off under the enemy's feet...but no! No, that would draw the Elders' attention, stealing things like that!

Meysam glared at the transport ships setting down beyond the ridge. They were on the low ground, which gave him a tactical advantage, but if they'd brought a MEC to spearhead the assault, none of his guards' assault rifles would do much, even if they had started life as XCOM gear.

"Get back to the lynchpin," he finally repeated. "Make sure everyone there is ready. I'm naming you deputy for the duration of the crisis." Hopefully that would make _someone_ listen to her.

"What about you two?" She glanced at the mess of woodworking tables that offered the only cover for a good distance. "There's nothing here."

"This is a checkpoint. Outliers will be rallying here on their way to the bunker." Meysam sighed. "Someone's got to try and make sure they live through the process."

"That's a suicide mission-"

"You've got your orders, Nui," Meysam snapped. He waved to Kang, beckoning the Korean in his wake as he started for the nearest defensible set of rocks he could see. "Go!"

She hesitated. An instant later, she lunged, and Meysam paused when she caught Kang by the shoulders. The captain waited while the most passionate kiss he'd ever seen happened about four yards from his lonely self.

"Why does that never happen to me?" he wondered under his breath.

"For luck," Nui gasped, when she finally came up for air. Mercifully, she finally took off for the others.

"Jeez." Kang had to take a minute to catch his breath. He actually coughed. "Thank you, Meysam."

"She's safe. Or, as safe as I can arrange. Odds are no one's going to make it through today either way." He let out a long breath as he heard faint cries; both of Advent and of humans. "I think that's our cue."

* * *

"For the Elders!"

Din Dourde knew she was lucky. The ambush in California hadn't gone according to plan - not by anyone's definition except perhaps the Warlock's - and yet here she stood, with a more prestigious command than a patrol group to show for it. That was the plus side. The down side was that now she had a patron: for all the good that came from having the Warlock intervene in your service record, the bad was that you were now personally beholden to a child of the gods.

Most days, it didn't bother Dourde. They were, after all, on the same side. But she did wonder what use the Warlock had for her, and whether she would thrive through or even survive it.

 _It is not today's concern_ , she reminded herself forcefully. She waved again to the soldiers in company with her: one lancer, one soldier, and one priest serving as her honor guard. Decked out in blood red for vengeance, she led the way toward the large human stronghold. Behind her immediate detail came the berserker and the codex and the mutons and the vipers, and the single MEC she'd wheedled out of the Baghdad garrison with her patron's name.

"Go east," she ordered the vipers now. They hissed and slithered off, taking a muton in tow as they moved to encircle and destroy the advance guard post. Dourde paid them no more heed: two humans with obsolescent weapons, against the Elders' chosen forces?

"Englobe the structure." She checked her rifle, pausing here in the midst of what seemed to be a Resistance shooting range. It would serve as a forward command post well enough for her purposes. "Ensure none can escape out back or to the flanks, then push in and exterminate them all."

"For the Elders!" cried her loyal soldiers. The mutons led the way, with their berserker hanging in the back lest she become consumed by the wrath before it was time. With them marched the MEC, and Dourde peeled her lips back as she imagined the slaughter it would wreak.

She heard weapons-fire from the east, and sudden screaming. That made her grin widen. The forward post would not last long, not against even her light elements. If she'd chosen to deploy the MEC on that side, it would have already collapsed...but she had bigger fish to fry.

Then her grin vanished, because she heard _magnetic_ weapons-fire.

* * *

"Heads down!" Jane bellowed, over the roar of the Skyranger's engines. Evidently, someone on the ground heard her, because one of the two Resistance soldiers - limping, clutching his side, but without an ounce of quit in him even with his friend bound up by a viper - threw himself flat. Jane slapped the nearest shoulder. "Light 'em up!"

"Keep her steady!" David White shouted, before he unleashed his mag-cannon on full auto. Firebrand worked her controls like an artist, and her pride and joy came to an almost dead stop in the air, hardly wobbling inches while the Australian's fire traced out in a wild golden stream. The muton down there hardly had time to realize he was under attack from the air before about sixty million tracers eviscerated him. Jane relished the beautiful _whirring_ of the mag-cannon's action, wishing she'd scored as a Grenadier.

"That's it!" screamed Mariah. "How do you like it, you bastards?"

 _There has got to be a way I could have done this without bringing her_. Jane was at a loss for what, exactly, that _was_ , but there had to be a way. Mox and Julie and Outrider were all wounded, so that was three good soldiers she was denied. She'd already tapped David and Aileen and herself...hell, she'd broken bad enough to bring _Mordecai_ the new guy, just on the general principle that having a Reaper beat not having one. She'd been left with two slots, and hadn't thought it was wise to risk losing Liang - XCOM's only remaining veteran who wasn't deployed or in the medbay. That left Charlotte and Mariah, since Jane still didn't quite trust Sylvie's diagnosis. She'd almost brought both of the new fish.

 _Almost_ , because she'd had a better idea.

"Deploy!" the Ranger ordered, before flattening herself against the starboard compartment wall. Thunderous metal footfalls disrupted Firebrand's nice stabilization, and Jane heard the pilot swear as she fought the jerking stick.

Then it was all worth it, because Junior landed with a crash and a blast of scattering dust and dirt, right beside the viper binding up one of the Resistance guards. Jane fancied it whimpered the instant before Junior's servo-driven power fist went _through_ its skull plate and out the other side.

"Alright." Jane didn't see anything alive down there that wasn't supposed to be, and she checked her shard gun. "Mordecai, you're on point. Spot targets and call out patterns. Do _not_ show yourself to the enemy under any circumstances."

"Understood." The Pole seized his line and down he went. David eased back to slide a new clip in his cannon.

"Aileen, David, you're heading along the ridge line to flank south. You're likely to run into heavy resistance, so I'll stick Junior with you for an armored spearhead." She gave her boyfriend a worried glance. "Don't die."

"I'll take care of him, don't worry." Aileen took her Bolt Caster and seized her line. "Come on, Nessie!"

"I'll be fine. Worry about yourself." David gave her a quick peck on the cheek. "For luck, eh?"

"Get out of here." Jane made a shoving motion, then claimed her sword.

"And me?" Mariah bared her teeth, popping up at Jane's flank with a puppy wolf's enthusiasm for death and slaughter. Jane, remembering how emphatic the girl had been about volunteering, couldn't shake the feeling her charge had personal reasons for being here.

"You..." Mariah was nominally just like any other soldier, despite her last name...but Jane still couldn't help but suspect that if she got Central's daughter killed, that might put her under just a _bit_ of a cloud. Jane blew air through her teeth, then handed the kid her line. " _You_ do not leave my sight."

" _End of the line, ladies_." Firebrand waved over her shoulder. " _Call if you need an airstrike_."

"If only." Then Jane caught her line and began the Slide of Doom, Mariah on her heels. They came down hard among the rocks and the worktables...hard enough young Miss Bradford nearly lost her footing. She stumbled, catching herself one-handed, and Jane wondered if that was an omen.

"Thank God you're here." That was one of the Resistance soldiers. He looked Korean, and he was studying his friend's wounded leg. "They're pushing up on the lynchpin - the big central structure back there. They've probably surrounded it by now."

"We're on it." Jane turned that way, adjusting her cap. "Stay here!"

"We can help!" protested the wounded one. "I'm captain of the guard-"

"Stay here!" Jane repeated. "Come on, Mariah!" She hit her com as she sprinted for the looming building...and the weapons-fire and screaming starting to fill the air. "Mordecai, talk to me!"

* * *

" _Movement on the right_ ," Mordecai warned. Aileen grumbled off her com.

"Sure, there's movement over there," she allowed. "That's where the bloody building that's burning is."

"He isn't as bright as Outrider," David agreed. He paused a moment later. "MEC and mutons!"

"Make it rain!" Aileen threw herself flat behind the first rock she saw: heroism was all well and good, but the first rule of combat was to not die. Nessie buzzed over her head, and she hoped the happy little drone didn't take mag-rounds.

Red tracers seared over her head. She heard the harsh cries of mutons, but saw no plasma-fire: they were taking the moment to move into position.

"Catch!" David cried. His grenade launcher _whumped_ , and Aileen whooped when a tremendous _bang_ announced the hit. She popped up without thinking, sighting down the length of her odd but lovely weapon. It _hummed_ as she activated the power cell.

Then she lined up on the MEC, and Aileen pulled the trigger.

"Gotcha!" she cried, as the heavy shot slammed into the MEC's chest. It hit hard enough that it punched straight through it, ripping circuitry and metal out and blasting oil and coolant in a wild spray for almost twenty feet. The white robot stumbled, almost sounding surprised as it beeped out the last electrical impulses from its central processor.

Then it collapsed, and Aileen ducked as mutons opened up on her. She reloaded as quickly as she could.

" _Got an enemy command group here,_ " Jane announced. " _I'm going in. Mordecai and Mariah, cover the rear_."

" _I apologize for your untimely death_ ," announced Junior, and Aileen beamed as his fire ripped into the mutons from the side. They howled and roared.

" _All units, this is Gallant_." Aileen missed a word or two in there because she had to shoot someone who wouldn't let her take a phone call. " _The enemy is deploying another ship's worth of units. I'm marking their projected landing point_."

"Oh, joy." Aileen couldn't help but notice that projection put them about thirty feet away from her. She tried to count the mutons, and broke off after _five_. And hadn't she heard a berserker earlier? Where was it?

"Our advance isn't going anywhere fast," David growled. He loaded another frag. "Junior, hit the right target when I blow their cover. Aileen, knock the other one."

"The rest of you had better get in there on that building," Aileen warned, listening to the continued racket of rifle-fire from that direction. "We're locked into a slugging match down here."

A moment later, David's grenade detonated...and the Bolt Caster claimed another life.

* * *

"What is happening back there?" Dourde bounded up onto a rock, leaving her rifle dangling off her shoulder. She narrowed her eyes, trying to make out details about the first human position. "Section one, report." She glared at her wrist com for a moment. "Section one!"

No response. Dourde growled under her breath. "Section three, move in _now!_ Slaughter all the traitors and anyone who tries to protect them."

She got a chorus of affirmatives in multiple alien dialects. Dourde abandoned her perch, swearing as she hurried across the firing range, perplexed guards in her wake, toward an outdoor workshop. She ground her teeth.

"XCOM," she muttered. "It _must_ be XCOM." She let out a long breath. "Well, so be it. That's why we're here."

" _Sighting report_." Her codex appeared, gold and spewing black from its head. " _One of their fighting scouts is pushing in on the holdout._ "

"Alone?" That wasn't usually how XCOM worked. Dourde shrugged when the messenger nodded. A child, perhaps abandoning support in search of glory. She raised her wrist. "Deploy the berserker."

She heard the roar without the com. Dourde grinned again: berserkers were invincible. She'd never seen one taken down in action in her entire service. If their Ranger thought-

"Get down!" That was the priest, seizing Dourde from behind with sudden fury. They both collapsed...and angry yellow traces rent the air only an inch from the captain's face. She rather thought they dented her helmet, as a matter of fact.

"Come _on!_ " And then the frustrated human was in amongst them, and she worked the pump on her gun again. Dourde lunged to her feet, seizing her rifle-

The codex cried out as the human's next shot went into her. She split with an agonized shriek, seemingly against her will, and the second half landed on the human's other side. Dourde had one moment to examine the human - brown hair in a long strand, dark ballcap, Irish flag between her shoulder blades - before the codices chose to act in unison.

"Wait!" Dourde cried, as they called on their power. Purple vortices burst up over the firing range, and psionic blockers jammed the Ranger's gun.

And also Dourde's and her guards'.

"Move!" Dourde threw the priest out from the psionic bomb's blast radius, repaying her momentary debt. She lunged too, and her lancer and soldier scrambled for safety. They rolled up to their feet as the whirling blasts of power condensed and glowed, hissing with angry strength. Dourde's attention was so fixated that she didn't even notice the bullets that hissed from the Resistance strongpoint, blowing both her weakened codices into golden ash.

She just screamed in triumph as the psionic bomb vortices closed in for good...and then detonated with the Irishwoman caught inside.

* * *

 _Bang!_ That was a door. Mariah liked slamming doors, either closed or open. Humanity had lost something with the end of hinges, though she knew she was alone in that esoteric belief.

 _Bang!_ That was her shard gun, speaking its mind in anger and spitting harsh gold tracers across the entryway of the so-called _lynchpin_. There was a stun lancer preparing to head up the stairs, probably to force a breach in the heavy ballistic fire coming from above so that his trooper friends could exploit it. Well, so they could exploit it as soon as they finished executing the half a dozen cowering women and children in the far corner.

There _was_ a stun lancer, and after Mariah's dramatic entrance and snap shot, there _was_ a half-obliterated corpse in a yellow pool studded with rent entrails.

"Yes!" she crowed. The three troopers threw themselves behind cover - but then a little device flew out from a dark corner, snapping down between a pair of them, and a moment later someone else fired.

 _Ka-boom!_ Mordecai's claymore went off with a volcanic eruption of sound and light. Shrapnel sprayed the two soldiers it caught, and their cover blew apart. Civvies screamed, but Mariah thought they were fine. She worked the pump on her gun.

 _Blam!_ She ended one life...then swore as the third soldier fired on her. Mariah dove behind a column, wincing as red tracers ripped chunks from the stone. Her heart thudded and adrenaline raced through her veins.

" _Mor balaten!_ " cried one of her attackers. " _Toucan safari!_ "

"What?" Mariah demanded.

"Don't talk to them!" Mordecai was in here somewhere, and his temnotic rifle cracked with its metallic ring. Another soldier tumbled, and the last one was all alone. "Finish him!"

Mariah leaned out, yelping as more tracers soared around her. But she wasn't a coward, and she lined up her own shot in a flash. She swore, hitting the trigger-

 _Blam! Boom!_ Two things happened at once. The first was the roar of her shard gun cutting lose, its rounds ripping one of the trooper's arms off above the shoulder. He spun in a full circle before collapsing on his back, spitting and choking out words in the Advent language.

The second was the wall behind Mariah blowing inward.

"What the hell-" She broke off as she heard it: the roar, wild and angry and...

" _Get out of there!_ " her father cried in her ear, as Mariah found herself face-to-face with a towering scarlet-and-white berserker.

She didn't have a chance to take half a step before it roared, dousing her in flying spittle...and charged.

* * *

Jane vaulted from the radius of the psionic blasts bare inches ahead of the purple wave of death. She rolled over a table, shard gun entirely forgotten, and her sword came out in a flash. She sliced the stun lancer's arm from elbow down, and on her backswing she bit into his thigh. The Adventer howled, stumbling, and then Jane had to move on, because the trooper was trying to unjam his gun.

"No!" Jane vaulted between trooper and lancer, bringing her arc blade down overhead. She hit the soldier's mag-rifle so hard it cracked, and the force of the blow knocked it from his hands and down onto his feet. He swore in his ugly alien language, twisting side to side to avoid Jane's follow-up strikes-

" _Mor balaten!_ " cried the priest, snatching her gun. She leveled it, and Jane spun into a throw, hurling her blade end over end until it nailed the alien-lover to the nearest plywood wall. The priest screamed, purple light coursing over her body, but she was out and Jane's attention moved on.

She ducked as the stun lancer came for her, swinging with its hissing and sparking blade. The trooper came in right on his heels, and Jane's hands snapped up. She blocked once, twice, then kicked the soldier in the knee hard enough something _cracked_. As he went down, she spun, limbo-ing under another horizontal strike - one that came close enough to flick at the brim of her cap - and then seizing the end of the baton's hilt left-handed. Jane twisted, and the weapon flew - unfortunately, from _both_ of their grips.

" _Bit of old vinegars!_ " shrieked the red-armored officer, before vaulting into the fray, gun butt upraised. Jane wove sideways, and the Adventer brought her strike down on a tabletop. It cracked and everything on the surface jumped. Jane's hands found the officer's ornate trailing scarf, and she used it as leverage to haul her up and then slam her down face-first into the vise bolted at the near corner.

" _Balaten!_ " shrieked the stun lancer, coming in with fists flying before the officer even finished tumbling. " _Mor Balaten!_ "

Jane wove and blocked, knocking the thing's hand into a table. She kicked said hand too, and bones cracked. Before she could follow up, the trooper threw himself at her again despite his limp, and Jane whirled to block and dodge a storm of attacks from two sides. She lashed out when she could, scoring a hit on the trooper's cheek and the lancer's shoulder with precise open-hand strikes.

The soldier's fist drove into her cheek, and Jane staggered. She caught herself on the table, then spun to her feet, retreating and blocking low as the lancer came in kicking, nursing his broken hand. Jane twisted and let him push-kick well past the point of no return, hitting nothing but air, and then she seized his ankle and heaved with a cry. The lancer hit the dirt on his back, and Jane made sure to use his face as a springboard as she jumped at the trooper.

The jarring reverberations of blocks and blocked strikes ran up Jane's armored forearms. Her arms blurred as she bore in on her enemy, and he screamed in his own language as she beat past his wild guard once, twice...on the third hit, yellow blood flew from his mouth. Jane brought her elbow up and then down, cracking it right atop his skull. Her armored joint pad couldn't prevent her from feeling the hit, but neither could the soldier's helmet. He tumbled to all fours, and Jane brought her leg up past head level before cracking her heel into the back of his head like an industrial hammer.

" _Donut!_ " shrieked the priest, sword still sticking from her chest. Jane had to do a double-take - hadn't she killed her? - but then she was only hurling herself sideways as a lance of psionic power rent the battlefield. She rolled out of the path, grabbing the first object she could find, and she hurled the screwdriver before she'd even made her feet. She missed, but she found a hammer with her other hand, and then she sprinted up on her white-clad foe.

Silver blurred as Jane swung. The priest wove backward, raising her amp defensively, blocking only when she had to. She was hurt, and badly. Jane snarled, pushing in to finish the job-

" _Eat pizza!_ " screamed the lancer, seizing her from behind in a vise-grip. He tried to lift her into the air. " _Eat pizza, cool!_ "

Jane stomped on his foot, then howled as the priest brought her amp into her face. The blow rang her world, and Jane tasted blood when her teeth came down on her tongue.

"Fuck off!" was her most eloquent battle cry, before she snapped her head back and broke the lancer's nose. He stumbled, and her elbow drove him back another step. Jane spun, back-kicking the priest hard enough she stumbled a half-dozen paces off, and then brought the hammer down on the lancer's ankle when he tried to kick her again. Before he could finish screaming and staggering, Jane flipped the tool and drove its prongs into the side of his neck.

" _Butts!_ " was the priest's objection when Jane ripped the hammer free in a wild spray of yellow blood. The lancer tumbled, but the Ranger lost her grip and the hammer fell with him. She saw the amp rising and power forming, and instead of waiting to be mind controlled or burned from within, the Irishwoman tackled the priest, ripping the weapon from her grip and throwing it aside. A knee flew, then an elbow, then Jane bashed her head into the Adventer's and spun her around. One hand caught the priest's cheek, the other her shoulder. Vertebrae snapped and shattered as Jane yanked sharply-

The body collapsed atop the others.

Jane groaned, leaning hard on the abused table. Blood - red and yellow alike - coated her gloved hands, and she felt it running over her cheeks and soaking her cap, dripping from the end of her ponytail. Split knuckles burned and her cheek ached. Her tongue stung as saliva and blood mixed and mingled over her open cuts. Her heart thundered and her breath came in ragged.

"Wait." Jane turned, leaning down to wrap her fingers around the sword-hilt still protruding from the priest's chest. "Three. Soldier, lancer, priest..." She spat red onto the nearest corpse. "There were four. There was..."

The officer was gone.

* * *

"Holy shit!" Mariah didn't have any better thoughts to voice as the berserker lunged. Instead, she brought her gun up, thoughtlessly putting a round into the first muscle cluster she could see, which happened to be a six-pack that was probably bigger than most people with them. The golden tracers tore into red and white flesh with yellow results...

And the berserker just sounded _ticked_.

"Wait!" Mariah fired again, not sure why the alien should do any such thing, as it seized her bodily in both hands. She screamed when it roared in her face. Its breath smelled like lemon cleaning products mixed up with kerosene fumes and week-old roadkill, but it was really the volume and rage in it that turned Mariah's legs to jelly.

She screamed louder when it threw her, and she came down hard on the far end of the room. She knocked her head on something substantial, and stars exploded before her eyes. Rolling over onto her front seemed like a Herculean task.

 _Thud. Thud._ Those were the berserker's footsteps, like the dinosaur's in that incredibly old movie Mariah's mother had loved so much. The Ranger would have been shocked to see a cup of water rippling, though: those footsteps would have upended it long ago.

"No," she whispered, as she made it to her side. It loomed over her, angry and huge, and it raised its fists high overhead to make a Mariah Pancake.

"Hey, ugly!" _Bang! Bang!_

The berserker roared as the shots ripped into its shoulders. It spun, and its next roar was loud enough Mariah had to cover her ears. She yelped as it charged off on all fours like a gorilla, opening that anglerfish mouth to show more teeth than a hundred sharks.

"No, wait!" she cried, as she saw Mordecai, calmly pouring temnotic rifle fire into the beast from the open, standing between it and the civilians. Mariah scrambled to her knees-

" _No!_ " she cried, a lot louder, as the berserker brought both fists down on the Reaper. He got another shot off in the instant before-

 _Wham!_

"You bastard!" Mariah seized her shard gun, fully aware that no one could have survived the hit the Pole had taken. Half of him was recognizeable, the other half the berserker was busily smashing and devouring. Red ran from its jaws. Mariah leveled her gun, full of searing rage, and-

 _Blam!_ She worked the pump. _Blam!_

 _Roar!_ The berserker spun back to her. Mariah set her teeth as the beast started her way.

 _Blam! Blam!_ Mariah wondered if she'd have to draw Narya. If that was what it took, she'd do it without looking back. But she had one shot left, and she lined it up as the berserker thundered up, seizing a table to smash over her. _Blam!_

While all the others had ripped holes in its frame, that one went right into its open maw. The alien howled almost piteously, thrashing for a moment with table held high overhead. Mariah scrabbled on her belt until she had a fresh clip, and she ejected the empty one. By the time she slammed her next shots into place, the berserker had stumbled back and dropped the table, still wailing and howling, almost louder than the civilians clustered in the corner.

"You can't-" Mariah fired, worked the pump "- _handle_ -" _Blam! Click!_ "- _me!_ "

It fell with an impact that could probably have been heard on the _Avenger_. Mariah set her teeth, searing with rage, and she worked the pump again. She put a third shot into the corpse, blowing its skull in half, then loaded up for another one that ventilated its chest. She dropped her gun as soon as she was out of ammunition. Tears burning at her eyes, Mariah drew Narya and lunged, howling curses and cries as she stabbed and hacked at the body in a mad frenzy.

"That's enough!" Someone caught her arm. "Mariah!"

"Get off me!" But she did slow her strikes, and then stop. Breathing heavily, the brunette drove her blade into the berserker for the final time, using it for support. "Captain?"

"Is the room secure?" Jane demanded. Mariah nodded.

"Yeah, I got this son of a bitch-"

"Are there any others?"

Mariah frowned, fully taking the other Ranger in for the first time. "Did you bathe in them?"

" _Mor balaten!_ "

"Hey!" Mariah jumped as that trooper - the one whose arm she'd blown off, the one who _had_ to have bled out - drew a grenade. Jane lunged with her sword in hand, while Mariah seized her gun and hit the trigger, only to remember it was empty-

The grenade flew. Mariah braced for detonation...and then sucked in breath as she saw where the little pineapple was going to land.

"Move!" she screamed to the crowd of cowering women and children. "Move, before it-"

 _Boom!_

* * *

 **Author's Note 36: With Friends Like These**

I like Haven Assaults...somewhat better than normal terror missions. On some days. Having the Resistance forces with you is good: having massive swarms of enemies and a virtually-guaranteed Chosen presence is not. And the Resistance is only really _good_ on Veteran or lower. I usually play on Veteran - not because I can't play Commander, but because I don't really get off on a massive challenge most of the time so I play more casually - and there just isn't a lot of pressure to do much on Haven Assaults. Let the AI whittle each other down! I'll hunker down back here and make my cautious approach.

On Commander, the Resistance soldiers couldn't hit a lake they were standing in, and they couldn't hurt it if they did. I had a Haven Assault where the AI dumped 3 berserkers and 6 mutons on me in one turn, and they all just murdered civvies until I got them all. I had like...1 civvie over the bare minimum when the mission ended.

I've mentioned before that I daylight as a tae kwon do/mixed martial arts instructor. You can probably tell as of this chapter: the way Jane engages her enemies is focused and tactical, hitting joints and pressure points to weaken them, and focusing on one hostile at a time except when forced to react to a sudden attack(trooper, then lancer, then priest for the finish). I've missed writing good old unarmed combat scenes. Expect more in the future.

Until then, _Vigilo Confido_.


	37. Pride

_Please remember to favorite and follow!_

* * *

 _"Experience is simply the name we give our mistakes."_

 _~Oscar Wilde_

* * *

 **Chapter Thirty-seven: Pride**

"Where do I even begin?"

"Sir..." Mariah looked pale. She'd looked pale since the last moments of the fight, and only paled further when _Avenger_ landed by Liberty Gulch and sent the Shens' team out to assist in the dismantling of the Haven. The remaining survivors would migrate to another hidden position...those who didn't decide their odds were better joining up with XCOM.

"You had one job," Central reminded her, in a low voice. Jane, watching the pair from the side of Bradford's brown office, tried to stay impartial: Mariah _had_ screwed up.

 _But I don't like where this is going_ , the Ranger uneasily admitted, seeing the light in Bradford Senior's eye. _I_ really _don't like where this is going_.

"You were supposed to protect the civilians," Bradford growled, framed by the dual draped American and XCOM flags on his wall. He stood behind his desk, glaring down with righteous wrath. "Your team deployed to keep the Haven safe and protect the Resistance elements in this region."

"I know," Mariah murmured. "I tried."

"You tried." Bradford shook his head. "You got so wrapped up with that berserker that you didn't think about anything else. Because of _your_ foolishness and your target fixation, Mordecai Kowalski is dead."

"Sir," Mariah protested, at something above a whisper but only just, "he sacrificed himself to take down the berserker. Maybe that _is_ my fault, but-"

"But what?" Central's voice cracked like a whip. "What's the _but_ , Mariah? If you had kept your feet and your cool, Mordecai wouldn't have had to do any such thing. Not to mention-"

"I know," she moaned.

"Don't interrupt me," Bradford snapped. Jane took a steadying breath, tamping down hard on her own opinions. "Not to mention, Squaddie, the civilians who took a grenade because you got worked up shooting a _corpse_. Not even your inexperience and your age can forgive you not realizing _the berserker was dead!_ "

"I...I knew that-"

"And you just shot it anyway?" Bradford demanded. "Knowing it was dead, knowing Quinn and White and Junior were heavily engaged to the south? Thank God for the Haven guards, Mariah, coming in and pulling their chestnuts from the fire like you were supposed to." He waved in Jane's direction. "While you were mauling a dead body, your captain was engaged four-on-one! You're lucky she's good, or she'd be on your head too." He leaned on his desk. "Instead of going to help any of your friends, and instead of making sure the civilians were safe, you screwed around."

"I'm sorry," Mariah whispered.

"I'm sure Mordecai and the orphans in the Gulch appreciate that."

"Sir-"

"I'm half-inclined to take you off the combat roster." Bradford took a seat, and very ostentatiously did _not_ invite Mariah to do any such thing.

"Sir!" She was crying now, crying and struggling to stay locked at attention. "I want to fight. I want to help."

"With your track record, I think we'd have better operational success if you were swabbing Shen's workshops rather than helping."

"Alright," Jane began, but she hesitated when Bradford raised a hand to forestall her.

"I'm not playing games," Central warned. "Because of your incompetence, Mariah, people have _died_. But!" He inhaled. "You get one more chance. I expect you to shape up and put this behind you, understood?"

"Yes, sir!" Mariah nodded quickly. "Absolutely, sir, thank you, sir!"

"If you screw up again," Bradford growled, "even the _tiniest_ bit..."

"No, sir!" Mariah swallowed. "Thank you, sir!"

"Good. Get out of my face." Bradford turned his attention to his terminal then, and Jane had to return Mariah's salute before she would scramble out through the automatic door.

The hiss after it shut sounded very final.

"Central..."

"Yes, Captain?" Bradford gave her a searching look. Jane swallowed.

"Don't you think you're being a little hard on her?"

"People are dead, Captain." Bradford's eyes were sparks of flint. "I was _easy_ on her."

"Sir, I understand what's happened and why." And Jane resented the implication she didn't, though she was far too diplomatic to admit _that_. "But she's trying, Central, and she's trying because of you."

"And?" He really didn't get it. Jane knew men were blind, but this was a new low.

"I'm saying..." Jane seized her patience with both hands and held on as tightly as she could. "I am saying, sir, that she went haring off into battle in Korea because she wanted to impress you. She took that shot on the Hunter and Mox not because she's an idiot, but because she thought you'd approve."

"If her idea of winning my approval is to throw wrenches in our operations, it'll be a long time coming to her."

"Sir..." Jane had trouble keeping hold of that patience. "Did you, or did you not, _ever_ have a conversation with her?"

"Of course-"

"As _yourself_ , not as Central to a soldier," Jane snapped, losing some of her cool. "Did you ever sit her down as her _father_?"

Bradford glanced back down to his terminal. "There hasn't been time."

"Right." Jane breathed in deeply. "Maybe, sir, if you sat her down and showed her that you _do_ notice her and she _isn't_ just another soldier to you, she won't be so desperate to prove something to you that she starts losing track of things she shouldn't."

"That's none of your business, Captain." Bradford didn't look up. "And I remind you that whatever the reasons for her decisions, people have died as a result and that's on her head."

"Of course." Jane's patience wore to breaking point. "And I think _you_ should bear in mind that, regardless of the reasons for _your_ decisions, whatever happens to Mariah as a result of them is on _yours_."

"Captain!" Bradford rose as she stormed for the door. "That was out of line, Kelly! And I haven't dismissed you-"

Jane left without so much as a glance.

* * *

Din Dourde had a headache. She had cuts and bruises from Jane Kelly's vicious assault - if any human was a warrior to equal a Chosen, it would perhaps be her. She ached and hurt from her flight from the abortive assault on the traitor encampment.

And none of that mattered, because she lay prostrate with her forehead on the cool floor of an ancient sanctum.

" _Imbecile!_ " the Warlock cried. His footsteps were thunder and his voice was death. Violet light seared around his arms and his eyes...or, would have, if Dourde had dared to look up. " _I gave to you one mission!_ "

She was not unwise enough to speak. In fact, she tried very hard not to even _think_ : the Warlock was known to read the minds of all around him.

" _I lifted you from the common ranks of the patrols_ ," the Warlock reminded her. " _Were it not for me, you would have been punished for California, not rewarded!_ "

"For which mercy I am grateful," Dourde replied, after long enough it was clear he awaited a response. "I am beyond lucky to have been graced with the sight of your sanctum and the value of your patronage."

" _You may be, but I am not!_ " He was in a fit state. Dourde remained terrified, but she also became resigned in a dark way: she couldn't see any way the Warlock would let her leave his temple alive. " _You fled from battle!_ "

"I beg pardon, mighty Warlock-"

" _You fled and abandoned your forces as soon as the going was tough!_ " He loomed before her, and Dourde squeezed her eyes shut, hoping it would at least be quick and painless. " _You are a coward, and unfit to lead warriors of the gods!_ "

"Mighty Warlock-"

" _You will be punished for this cravenness!_ " And then Dourde squealed as she was lifted from the floor. The Warlock held her up by her arms with chains of purple light, and fury wrapped over his ancient features. " _You will be punished most harshly_ -"

"I only seek to serve as best I may-"

" _Then you should have stood to the death rather than flee!_ " The Warlock threw her aside, and Dourde cried out as she landed well below his upraised podium. She heard the clicking chatter of talons on metal, too: the Warlock's pets knew what it meant when he shouted and flung someone to the ground.

"Mighty Warlock, I beg mercy!" she cried, as a half-dozen of the purple insects appeared around her. Saliva fell from their jaws and dripped over their little vestigial arms. They chirped and chittered, and Dourde quaked as they approached, slavering for her flesh. "I beg you, master-"

" _I turn my ears from you_ ," the Warlock decreed. Dourde screamed louder as the first of the chryssalids loomed over her, reaching for her. " _For you have turned yours from your duty to the Elders_ -"

 _Bang!_

Dourde gasped as something hit the chryssalid. It staggered, howling, and in a flash, more shots, red and angry, ripped into its fellows. They collapsed in wild sprays of flying body parts and yellow rain, until abruptly nothing loomed but the Warlock himself.

" _You dare!_ " the Warlock screamed, while Dourde wiped hot yellow goo from her face. " _You have nerve to show your face in this sacred place, defiler_ -"

" _Oh, trust me, brother_." That voice made Dourde shiver too, and she remained low as another supernaturally-tall form sedately cruised past her, slinging his rifle back over his shoulder. " _I'm not here for you_."

" _You enter my home and slaughter my pets, and act as if it were a game?_ " The Warlock confronted the Hunter, and Dourde wondered how quickly she would become collateral damage. The Chosen often fought, though never before in times of resistance and crisis. Very few lived to tell the tales of their matches, but what tales they did tell were the stuff of legend.

" _It's not sporting_ ," the Hunter objected mildly. He kicked a body as if to underscore his point. " _Honestly, brother...feeding them to chryssalids? That's just cruel. I wouldn't do that to a_ human _._ "

" _Begone_ ," the Warlock ordered. His gaze flicked to Dourde, and she quailed and prostrated herself again. " _I have business to conclude_."

" _Not anymore_." The Hunter scoffed. " _I want her. And I'm going to take her_."

"You what?" Dourde couldn't help herself. She stared up at the mighty Chosen - both of them - and the concept that they would do battle for _her_ was utterly absurd. She was merely one of millions.

" _She has betrayed the Elders!_ " the Warlock preached. He raised his arms to the sky. " _She sacrificed her sovereign duty to stand her ground and die for the gods if it was asked of her, all in the name of preserving her own skin!_ "

" _Yes_." The Hunter didn't sound at all perturbed. " _I like that_. _The hunt isn't just about shooting things and getting shot, no. It's about knowing when it's high time to fold your cards and walk away from the table so you have a chance to play again someday. I don't want someone who will_ die _for the Elders...I want someone smarter than that. Someone who will_ live _for them, and intends to keep living so she can keep serving_."

The Warlock was undoubtedly the most powerful of the Chosen. Dourde wouldn't have bet against him in any match against Hunter or Assassin: good they were, but he was without question the eldest and strongest. But, lying there in the remains of the Hunter's latest crop of victims and listening to the difference between the Warlock's single-minded zealotry and the Hunter's cold pragmatism, she realized she had been entirely wrong about which of the brothers was the more _dangerous_.

She would not say that. She tried not even to _think_ it: such thoughts were hazardous to her health as long as she sat in the Warlock's sanctum.

" _You would take the rejected and the forsworn_?" The Warlock's lip curled. " _You never have shown anything but disdain for the gods' will_."

" _That's me_ ," the Hunter said agreeably. " _We'll be going now_."

" _Very well!_ " the Warlock waved his hand, and Dourde nearly cried in relief. " _Take her, and when she brings you to grief, do not come crawling to me saying I did not warn you._ "

" _When have I ever before?_ " the Hunter wondered. He turned, carefully picking his way through the fruits of his labor to avoid getting guts on his shoes. " _Come along, Captain Dourde. We should leave before he remembers he hates me_."

" _How could I ever forget?_ "

"I'm coming, Mighty Hunter," Dourde scurried to his side, staying as meek as possible. She didn't stop trembling until they reached the Ascension Gate. She shivered in delight as blue light wafted over the pair, and they flew...and...

"Oh, thank the Elders," Dourde gasped, the instant they were well away from the Warlock. The Ascension Gate had not taken them into the Warlock's entry chambers, but instead to another purple-tinged Elder-style room, this one dominated by a large central platform from which hung dozens - even hundreds - of mounted heads as trophy. Dourde breathed in air that, while the same as that in the Warlock's chamber, somehow tasted sweeter. "And thank you as much, Mighty Hunter." She took a knee. "I am yours."

" _I approve of gratitude_ ," the Hunter allowed. " _But 'Mighty Hunter'? That's a mouthful, isn't it? I like the way it sounds, but you can drop the adjective and I won't feed you to anything_."

"I..." Dourde did not exactly know how to respond. "I owe you a debt."

" _Well, I didn't do it for you._ " There was no room for pretense in his manner. " _Spiting my big brother is a worthy end in and of itself._ " He laughed. " _But, Captain...as a matter of fact, I think I would appreciate the help of an Advent officer who remembers she has a brain to do more than learn litanies of boring trivia about the gods_."

Agreeing with that sentiment struck Dourde as dangerous if the Elders ever found out. "I am happy to serve in any way you desire" seemed reasonable, though.

" _I'm glad to hear that_." The Hunter strode into the depths of his sanctum. " _Because I've just been tasked with bringing in a certain very elusive quarry who has bothered the Elders for a long time...and I could use a general to make it look all official and such_."

"A...a _general_..."

All at once, Dourde was very happy the Warlock had tried to feed her to his pets.

* * *

 _Thunk...thunk...thunk..._

"You sent for me?" Shaojie Zhang's voice echoed through the Lab Space, bouncing off the high ceiling and far corners. Acoustics were always wild in underground facilities, and one lined with alien alloy-based stealth metal was designed to keep sound in. It reflected from silver and blue steel panels, marked at corners with the great shield sigil. Above all on the far wall, orange letters spelled out _Mutare Ad Custodiam_. After all these years...Zhang still didn't know what it meant.

"I did, Colonel." Moira Vahlen was a short woman of middle age, her face lined by the years she'd spent in the wilderness after the War. She wore a lab coat every waking minute, one breast pocket filled with her tablet and the other with a photograph she took out on occasion. Her hair was brown with graying streaks brought on by years and fears alike, but her blue eyes had nothing but savage intelligence, and her voice had never cracked. In fact, the biggest change since Zhang had first met her under Commander Gallant's leadership was that she'd started carrying a laser pistol with her in a thigh holster. She probably didn't take it off to sleep.

"Is it about the Warlock?" Zhang ceased his approach, halting in the darkened shadows that enveloped the entryway. Vahlen remained in her white-floored technological sanctum, admiring the containment cells her work teams had worked so hard to erect at the far end.

"Yes." Vahlen's accent veered from German to French almost at a moment's notice; legacy of her origins in a Swiss border town. "I am impressed with your work, but we do not have the information necessary to pursue a strike on his stronghold."

"I figured you'd send us back out sooner or later." Zhang produced a cigar. "Tempt you?"

"I cannot fathom your interest in those disgusting things." But Vahlen didn't say he couldn't partake, so Zhang just shrugged and pulled out his novelty cyberdisk lighter. Flame spouted from the little thing's tail end, and a moment later the beacon was lit.

"What's the drill?" Zhang finally asked. He squeezed the lighter, and it folded back up into the little silver disc he could slip into his pocket.

"There is a facility in Brazil." Vahlen turned to her terminal, and Zhang waited as a hologlobe appeared over the Director's head. A scarlet dot showed the point she was talking about. "This facility is known to be one of Advent's data centers. If anywhere will have the necessary information to find the Warlock, it will be here."

"I see." Zhang puffed. "Standard procedure?"

"I see no reason to deviate." Vahlen paused. "I have received a report on Beta."

"Have you?" Zhang gave her a sidelong look. "Who'd she kill?"

"No one!" She huffed. "Without direction and training, Beta is simply lashing out at anything she considers unfamiliar. She is _not_ a beast, Colonel Zhang."

"She's a berserker hopped up on gene steroids and equipped with pneumatic bracers and heavy armor-"

"We had this discussion." Vahlen sighed. "I did what was necessary for science and for humanity as a whole."

"In that order."

"That's enough." Vahlen shook her head. "The decisions were made, Colonel. We must recover Beta before Gallant's men put her in the dirt like they did to Gamma." From the Director's tone, it would be a cold day in Hell before she forgave the old Commander.

Meanwhile, Zhang wanted to buy him and his men a round or two. "Things aren't going to go back to the way they were, Doctor. The Rulers escaped, and you can't undo that."

"We have to!" She would not yield an inch. Vahlen's eyes flared with defensive anger. "They are the only hope humanity has of matching the Elders' power. We can - and _must_ \- turn the weapon of the Enemy against him if we are to have any hope of prevailing."

Zhang considered pointing out that the source material for the quote _use the weapon of the Enemy against him_ had some choice things to say about the idea. He also considered reminding Vahlen that she owed him and Annette her life - if they hadn't pulled her from the base when Gamma got loose and hell followed in a hurry, she'd have become viper food in the process of trying to coax her pet back to confinement.

He did neither. Vahlen's mind might as well have been carved from stone: it was made up and would not budge. Zhang, ever the pragmatist, turned his attention to battles he had a prayer of winning.

"Have you thought at all about opening contact with them?" he asked. For a wonder, Vahlen didn't shoot him down in a flash.

"I..." She moved her head back and forth: such a gesture of uncertainty that the Heavy nearly started the Faceless Identification Drill. In the nick of time, Vahlen carried on. "It would be nice to see...Central again." She was very bad at pretending she hadn't changed names midsentence. "But if we try to make contact with one group in the outside world, we expose ourselves to detection by others. If the Templars discovered us, I do not consider it a certainty that they will show us friendship. To say nothing of the possibility of the Chosen catching wind of our attempts!"

"But there's strength in unity," Zhang objected. He also knew what buttons to push. "Just think of the scientific possibilities if you combine your work here with what they might be doing on that alien ship." He felt a bit of pride in knowing his own role in _Avenger_ 's capture, even if it was indirect.

"Perhaps." And as usual, that was the end of the conversation. "Your team will prepare for deployment as soon as practical, Colonel. It will take some time for us to ship your people to Brazil, so I encourage you to make that very soon indeed."

"Of course, Doctor." Zhang gave her a lazy salute, then turned for the door, still puffing.

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Vahlen draw that photograph from her pocket.

* * *

"It's so...it's _so_..." Cameron Rogers couldn't think of a better word. He could only gawk, and try his hardest not to make that obvious.

" _Clean_ ," Da-Xia Liang suggested from his side. "That's the word you want, Moose: clean."

"It's _white_ , too."

"You're one to talk."

"Come on!" Cameron gave the Grenadier a dark look. She smirked under glasses she didn't need - but they broke up her outline nicely. Their current walking track took them right past a holodisplay that had her own face on it, and no one called anyone out.

It wasn't just the glasses. Cameron was used to Liang the soldier, decked up and decked out with gun and kit and grenades, ready to mix it up at the slightest real or imagined provocation. This woman at his side - this short but not tiny Asian woman, adorned not with blast padding but a red floral blouse, jeans, some gemstone bracelets, and tall heeled boots - was not the Sergeant Liang Cameron knew. Instead of her business bun and her face wrappings giving her that ninja vibe, she'd wrapped an orange striped scarf up in her dark hair, creating such a contrast of colors that Cameron could almost forget it was there so she could cover her face at need.

"Well, it's not just me," Liang observed, raising an eyebrow when Cameron's glance lingered a little too long. The sharpshooter jumped.

"Oh! I'm sorry, it's all just-"

"Look at yourself sometime," Liang ordered. The corporal thought about it for a minute, and decided she likely had a point. He'd been born in a small town to begin with, and Advent's creation hadn't fundamentally altered his upbringing even if it had given it more urgency. He spared a glance at one of those shiny white city center walls in passing, and almost had to laugh: didn't he look respectable? Loose slacks and dress shoes, combed hair and a little golden goatee-mustache combo north of an aquamarine button-up T-shirt. Back in Canada, short sleeves in May would have been a funny joke, but here in Virginia, May seemed like a boiling approximation of Hell already. Cameron wondered what July and August would be like, but decided he probably didn't want to know.

"And the odds of our mission taking that long are low," Liang agreed, when he voiced the thought. She kept her voice down, but Cameron did a surreptitious glance left and right anyway.

" _Present identification_ ," ordered a computer, as if it knew what was what. Cameron wasn't nearly as nervous doing so now as he'd been right after Firebrand dropped them off down near Midlothian, but his heart still skipped a beat. Trying not to hesitate, he produced his forged papers. He also pressed the stone on his ring, and knew Liang was doing the same.

" _Scanning_." The lamppost, for that was what it was, blinked a few times, examining what it was given. If the slightest thing was out of order...

" _Identity confirmed. Remember, only together can we build a better tomorrow_."

"Oh, good." Cameron kept it light, trying to act the part of a civilian who'd avoided inconvenience. He stuck his hands in his pockets and turned back down the pristine ivory sidewalk, surreptitiously mimicking the crowds bustling all around. "This is one hell of a city."

"Is it?" Liang sounded amused. "You could drop the whole of Richmond into Shanghai and you'd never notice you'd done it."

"I defer to your experience." Cameron resisted the urge to look at his ring. "I'm glad the...jewelry purchase was a good idea." _And I'm damn glad the Shens figured out how to mimic those head-chip signals, at least well enough for casual scanners_.

"Any jewelry purchase is a good idea," Liang said. Cameron nearly jumped out of his skin when she hooked her arm through his. "Especially if it's you purchasing for me, _dear_."

"What-"

"We'll attract less attention if we play the part," she muttered through her teeth. "In case you missed it, Moose... _I'm_ not white." Her eyes flicked around the street, and that was definitely worry in them. "Maybe people will think I stand out and maybe they won't - I mean, it's America - but if they see me attached to you, maybe they'll just think I'm your mail-order bride and no one says anything else."

"I'm...relatively sure no one's going to jump to that conclusion-"

"Just shut up and pretend to be my boyfriend."

"I guess if I act scared of you, that's a good start."

"Yes," Liang decided, after a moment's thought. "That's a very good start." She paused. "Heads up, Moose: incoming."

"Yeah?" Rogers did his best to crane his neck and visibly admire the statues on Monument Avenue. What he made surreptitious was that he kept stealing glances at the figure emerging from what had become Advent's central research hub in the city. "Who's that one, _sweetie_?"

"Johnston."

"You know your Confederate war heroes pretty well." Cameron couldn't help but be impressed. "You did a _lot_ of research."

"His name is written down there." Liang pointed, and now Cameron felt pretty stupid. "Don't ask me who he was or what he did. Probably something incredibly idiotic that happened to come at the right moment, so he's now a hero instead of a footnote."

"Isn't that how most heroes get made?" Cameron eyed the woman - the human woman - and her Advent guards, clambering into an armored car by the side of the road. "I see a shadow car two blocks down. People in it, not Advent. Civilian markings."

"Copy that." Liang glanced the other way. "Lead car one block up. This one is marked."

"The bait and the knife." Cameron studied the building. "Fortified with turrets and foot patrols."

"Head-on is a no go." There was heavy surveillance on the streets, but there was even more back at the apartment they'd rented with the Resistance's hard-saved money. Their only chance to talk tactics was to do it here in low voices. Not that there seemed to be much to talk about: their target could have slept in a tank and she'd have been easier to get at.

"And she goes from here to the Defense Ministry," Liang recapped. "Which is patrolled by _mutons_ and _archons_ and houses at least one gatekeeper. We can't engage there either."

"Then what _can_ we do?" Cameron wondered. He waited to be called an idiot again when Liang spelled out her brilliant plan.

He'd never before been so unhappy an insult didn't come.

* * *

"Your people are safe," Commander Gallant said, very firmly. "We'll relocate them somewhere with better farming land and some better security." He eyed Meysam rather critically. "You should get your leg looked at."

"I will, sir." This was the legendary Commander? A cripple without a chair? Meysam didn't know what he'd been expecting, but Edward Gallant wasn't it, whatever it was. "The other wounded?"

"We'll be on the ground as long as events permit, and we can leave a good load of medical supplies behind when we have to ship out." He was almost the antithesis of his office: this room was luxurious and decorated in a way Liberty Gulch couldn't imagine. Meysam would have put three people in here without blinking, either for working purposes or simply to sleep, and yet it was one of _two_ cabins set aside for the Commander? Life on the _Avenger_ seemed like heaven from his perspective.

Which wasn't what led him here today, even if it was a nice side benefit.

"Sir," Meysam began, "there is one other thing."

"Hit me, son." If he'd meant it literally, Meysam was sure the cripple would crack and break. With the arrogance of twenty, he supposed Gallant's mind must have been far sharper than his body.

"Commander, sir." Meysam stood straighter. "I would like to volunteer to join your crew."

Gallant paused. He gave Meysam a quiet once-over. "Is that a fact?"

"Yes, sir. And two of mine want to come too." Kang and Nui were busy helping with relief supplies, but they'd discussed this when _Avenger_ landed.

"What about your people?"

"You said you're folding us into another Haven." Meysam shrugged. "Half the guards will still remain if we join with you, and that combined with this other Haven's defenses should keep them safe. I think we'll do a lot more good with you than hiding in the desert."

"Hm." Gallant leaned back in his chair. "I don't often get people asking to join."

Meysam stayed quiet. He thought of the Reaper who'd been flattened, and wondered if Gallant was calculating his losses too. Gaining some new recruits might even out some of the pain, even supposing the Pole was a veteran.

"Get the approval of your Haven leader," Gallant finally allowed. "We run a tight ship, understand? You get to stick with us if you're good enough to deserve it."

"Yes, sir!" Meysam saluted. "I look forward to doing my part, Commander."

"And I look forward to working with you." Gallant returned to his forms. "Get your friends, let them know they're in too - if they can keep up - and finish work outside. Move your belongings aboard as soon as you have written confirmation from whoever's in charge-"

"Commander!" The scientist, Tygan, burst in the door without even bothering to hit the chime. Ignoring Meysam, he practically sprinted to Gallant's desk. "Commander, do you recall the transmission from the Eastern Seaboard I mentioned to you before the deployment in Korea?"

"I recall," Gallant replied, very curtly. "And Richard, I am in the middle of something-"

"I have a positive identification on the source!" Tygan cried. "It's a scientist by the name of Matthew Kipler, one who worked for Advent almost from its inception, who's finally come around to the truth of what they are!"

"That's very nice." Gallant glanced at his terminal. "I don't have a hit from Shadow Man." He glanced back to the soon-to-be operative. "And, _Doctor_ -"

"Commander, we must send an extraction team immediately," Tygan pressed. "Doctor Kipler is holed up in Yonkers with the Lost closing in on all sides, and if we don't respond and rescue him, he'll be overrun! We _must_ -"

"Tygan, if he was one of ours, Shadow Man would be blowing up my com," Gallant finally snapped. "I don't _want_ to leave anyone to die to the Lost, but what on Earth is so valuable about this particular scientist that we have to drop _everything_ all at once?"

"Because he was my mentor," Tygan replied quietly, which made Gallant's mouth snap shut with an audible click. "And because he was tapped to work directly on the Avatar Project."

* * *

 **Author's Note 37: I'm Sorry That I Let You Down**

We all have that _one_ soldier, don't we? The one who just can't do _anything_. The one who always seems to miss all his overwatch shots. The one who can't land a critical hit with every bonus in the world. Whose grenades just seem to destroy every cover tile... _except_ the one the enemy's cowering behind. Who leaves Lost left standing with _one_ hit point, every time they actually land the shot. The one you always wind up sending off on covert ops, because whether it's right or wrong, you're not really certain they aren't cursed(and they usually get wounded on those ops too, don't they?). You're reluctant to take them on missions, and every time you rely on them to make the clutch, they fuck it up.

Now imagine that soldier is your _kin_.

Forgive the provincialism in my descriptions of Richmond. I don't live there, but I've been many times, and I have family that does. It's a lovely city...but the heat in VA gets awful starting in early May. It's not just hot - there are plenty of other places where it gets hotter - but _muggy_ , and walking around feels like swimming. Good AC is a must, and unfortunately, I haven't had that for several years. I much prefer winter to summer.

Until next time, _Vigilo Confido_.


	38. Return Engagement

_Please remember to favorite and follow!_

* * *

 _"The great questions of the day will not be settled by means of speeches and majority decisions, but by blood and iron."_

 _~Otto von Bismarck_

* * *

 **Chapter Thirty-eight: Return Engagement**

 _"Fuck. Fuck, fuck..." Jane looked around, but there was nothing: no convenient rope, no ladder, no springboard or catapult..._

 _"Take my hand!" Liang leaned down while Mox continued firing, and Jane sprinted for her. She reached up, standing on tip-toe with her fingers mere inches from the rookie's. Liang nodded. "Jump! I'll catch you!"_

 _"Right!" Jane bent her knees. "I'm coming-"_

 _She screamed as hands caught her sword - her_ sword _, the useless deadweight itself! Jane flailed, lashing out with elbows and feet, trying to swing her shotgun around like a club to break the thing's hold. Liang screamed her name, but then she seized her gun, and bullets lanced into the Lost crowd._

 _"Get off it!" Jane did manage to shake the Lost's hold after a bullet caught it between the eyes, but then her back pressed into the bus' roof, and she scrambled to fit ammunition in her shotgun. The swarm loomed, like sharks smelling blood._

Boom! _Finally, ammunition!_ Clickity-boom! Clickity-boom!

 _It wasn't enough._ Nothing _would be enough, not at this distance. Jane's knees knocked and her eyes widened as_ they _came, in an onrushing unstoppable tide-_

"Irish?"

"Mm." Jane cleared her throat. She shook her head too, just a little, trying to get the searing images out from her mind's eye. Even if the ruins of Yonkers looked so much like Novosibirsk...even if she knew what she would find here was just as...

"Are you alright?" David asked. Jane cleared her throat again, thereby certainly eliminating all his suspicions at once.

"I'm fine. It's nothing. I _will be_ fine." Jane turned away from the set of ruined and twisted civilians, frozen in a crowd around an ambulance and a gurney. The only thing that kept them from Lost was the stillness they held: no life lingered in their desiccated remains.

"You didn't have to come," David reminded her, falling in step as they hurried back across the street. "I could have led the op-"

"I _said_ I'm fine!" She'd probably regret that harshness later. Jane proceeded to deploy the cold shoulder, turning her attention firmly away from the Grenadier. "Report, Menace."

" _Coming up from the south side_." That was Sylvie, and Jane spent a moment picturing her with Mariah and Meysam, the new recruit from Syria. Their street had to look just the same as this one...Jane wondered if any of the three had met Lost before. " _We are close to the sound of the gun_."

"Yes. The gun." Jane listened, and even then it unloaded another burst of staccato thunder-cracks. "Keep moving. Sing if you hit any resistance whatsoever." She waved to her followers. "Come on."

" _Oui, madame_." Charlotte and her drone alike hovered on Jane's heels, while David, perhaps sensing the Cold Shoulder, let a little space open up and served as rearguard.

"Stupid..." Jane kept her voice as low as possible, so low she almost didn't hear herself. Every few steps she twitched, certain she saw motion...and always, it proved to be nothing but a fluttering wrapper in the breeze, or a swinging shutter. Nothing lived here.

"Who'd have thought?" she finally wondered. "Yonkers, overrun by the living dead? It's ridiculous."

"This whole _war_ is ridiculous," David said cautiously, and despite her defensive tactics, Jane had to grunt in agreement. Her mind turned to Lost, turned to chryssalids and faceless and mutons and-

It turned so conclusively that she didn't notice the rush from the darkness until it - quite literally - hit her.

* * *

" _Contact!_ "

"Shit!" Commander Gallant growled in the back of his throat as thermal signatures burst up around Team One. "More of those dispersal pods screwing with our sensors?"

"Something like that," Tygan allowed. His quiet stoicism seemed a lot more wooden than normal. " _Something_ is messing with Firebrand's scanners. The Skyranger cannot detect anything beyond the portable cannon holding off the majority of the swarm. Communications are going in and out."

"Team Two, report," Bradford ordered. "Talk to me, Sylvie."

" _We hear weapons fire from Team One_." Those were nerves in her tone, sure as the sun. " _We have no visual_."

" _I hear them!_ " Mariah warned, perhaps forgetting her com was active. " _Down the street! It sounds like sixty billion_ -"

"Can't be. They're hitting the other team, so it's just thirty billion on your side." Gallant turned to the holodisplay, mind working feverishly. Unfortunately, it was the only thing that was, because information kept appearing and disappearing in quick sequences that could mean life and death on the ground. He worked his jaw for a moment. "Sylvie, push for the VIP. Assume until further notice that Team One is pinned down. We'll try to reestablish contact."

" _Shouldn't we rescue them?_ " Mariah asked.

"You have your orders, _Squaddie_ ," Bradford snapped. Gallant, mouth half-open, gave him a quick glance. Central shook his head, and Gallant slowly eased back.

" _Yes, sir!_ " Gallant almost heard her cut off an apology. The com deactivated.

"You know," the Commander observed, giving Bradford a searching look, "it was Bernard Montgomery who said ' _Every soldier must know, before he goes into battle, how the little battle he is to fight fits into the larger picture, and how the success of his fighting will influence the battle as a whole._ '"

"That's true enough, sir," Bradford allowed, "but at the end of the day, orders are orders and are meant to be obeyed, whether understood or not."

"Yes." Gallant was, after all, a product of West Point, which put him one up on his XO. He lowered his voice, trying to exclude the bridge techs from the next part of the conversation. "But you let _me_ be the one to make that call next time, John. Understood?"

Bradford blinked. "Crystal clear, Commander."

Gallant nodded. He returned his attention to the holodisplay, confident that all the potential problems inherent in having Bradford and Mariah on the same ship had been fully addressed and would never rear their ugly heads again.

 _My, my_ , the Commander thought, _you are_ awful _at lying to yourself, aren't you?_

* * *

"What _are_ these things?" Meysam Saleh fired another quick burst, ripping through a Lost's skull plate. They came in great tides: four or five dozen, and then half a minute's calm, and then another, larger, pack. Though they moved without individual purpose, it rather reminded him of the times he'd gone diving in the Mediterranean, hunting for equipment from crashed Advent craft. Fish lacked a great deal of individual initiative, but they way they clustered together in schools...

"Zombies!" Mariah cried, from his left. Meysam shook his head.

"No. I have seen zombies and killed them." Why chryssalids had evolved that capability out over the last five years was more than he could say. "These are different." He punctuated that with another burst, mowing down the lighter Lost he could spot with two or three shots each, then pausing to slide a new clip in his mag-rifle while Mariah's shard gun eviscerated the tougher ones.

"Stop talking!" Sylvie Richard slid to a halt by an overturned car that looked older than Mariah. "There are more of them pushing up from this side alley!"

"There _are_?" Meysam turned, and he shook his head, studying the barren roadway. "I see nothing."

"I don't _see_ them," Sylvie objected. She leveled her rifle. "I-"

"Shit!" Meysam belatedly supposed that psychics were _supposed_ to be able to see things through walls and cursed his arbitrary skepticism. Around the far corner, dozens of the fast dashers appeared, bounding for the XCOM team with wild howls of feral joy. The Arabian opened fire in the same breath as Sylvie, and their tracers smashed skulls and knees and shoulders, sending Lost down in tumbling sheets of green blood and pus.

"I can hold them!" Sylvie cried. She waved over her shoulder. "Get to Doctor Kipler!"

"But..." Mariah hesitated. "But..."

Meysam was made of harder stuff - you didn't get to be a Haven's guard captain by winning a game of air hockey. "Come on!" He nearly tugged Bradford - wasn't that Central's name, too? - in his wake. "You're a CQE specialist, and that's what we'll need to punch our way through the heart of their formation."

"CQE-"

"Close Quarters Engagement." Meysam put the conversation on hold to kill some more Lost. "It's a First Invasion term-"

" _Can't this wait_?" Commander Gallant asked. Considering he'd been the one to designate soldiers as CQEs, Meysam would have thought he'd have been more interested in seeing his current crop of operatives educated.

 _Blam! Blam!_ Mariah's shard gun blew Lost in half, spraying heads and shoulders and knees and arms in six or seven directions all at once. Meysam followed in her wake, putting precise mag-tracers in between the eyes and ears of the ones she missed. Shoulder-to-shoulder they fought, advancing steadily despite the onrushing tide of the living dead. A wave would rise, only to be beaten down in a mad golden storm of angry light...and another would take its place.

"You're a good shot," Meysam muttered, as Mariah potted two with one scattered blast. He chuckled when she, out of ammunition, drew her sword and sliced her way through another trio, leaving her blade embedded to free up her hand and reload. Rotting pus soaked her gloves and dropped over her boots, as well as catching her on the shoulder when Meysam blew the brains out of a brute trying to seize her in her moment of distraction.

"Thanks." Her brown curls flew as she lunged back into the fray, shouting in Spanish. Meysam held to his position at Mariah's flank and rear, covering her as she beat a path through the marauders.

"A _very_ good shot," he repeated, well under his breath.

* * *

"Commander? Central? _Avenger_ , come in!"

"Forget it, Jane!" David rammed the butt of his cannon into a Lost's face. It caved in - their bones were hardly more durable than the rest of them - and the now twice-dead body tumbled in a heap. Charlotte's rifle went off with a chain of harsh magnetic reports, mowing down a pair of the creatures trying to jump David from an overhead walkway.

"Forward!" Jane ordered, as her heart flew into her mouth. Tingles shot out down her arms and legs, and breathing was hard. She couldn't fill her lungs no matter how intently she tried, as if twenty percent of their space was filled with sand or mud and couldn't take air.

"VIP should be up at the intersection ahead," David reminded her, before he opened fire. Conversation was impossible when the air filled with his searing mag-tracers and the harsh, mechanical _hum_ of his weapon in action. He ripped through a half-dozen in one burst, and only resumed when he had to pause and shove a new magazine into place. "Thought that turret was keeping them at bay-"

"These ones must have heard the engines and tried to flank our contact's position," Charlotte hypothesized. She bounded past Jane, showing suicidal eagerness to get into the thick of things, and perched atop an old taxi. "I see the flashes from the turret ahead!"

"Then push in!" Jane wanted to do absolutely no such thing, but she wasn't about to let the blonde think she had a monopoly on the organization's guts. In she pushed, working the pump on her shard gun as quickly as she could. Three weapons combined their firepower, and whenever one of the trio had to reload, the other two picked up. Together, they waded into the thick of things, hardly bothering with cover in the face of foes that had no guns.

 _We're winning_ , Jane realized. _We might actually_ win _this_ -

"No!" Charlotte howled, and Jane spun. Three of the Lost had seized her - from _behind_ , just like the others racing in while the soldiers were distracted by what was ahead. Jane cried out.

"Hang on!" She fired before she could think, and luckily the Frenchwoman ducked. Jane's fire blew two of her foes off, but the last one hung on grimly, shoving Charlotte head-first into a wall. The blonde cried out, and again when the Lost leaned in and bit her hard, right where her armor tapered off into her neck. The blood that ran now was red.

"Son of a bitch!" Jane was out of ammunition, and she lunged to drive her gun butt into the Lost's head just like David before her. She got almost as dramatic a result: the thing collapsed with a visible split running from chin to crown, leaking emerald goo that dripped and slid over cracking flesh with exposed veins.

"Are you alright?" Jane demanded. She pulled Charlotte to her feet. "Are you-"

"I will live." She was in pain, no two ways about it, but despite her hand coming away from the side of her neck soaked red, she didn't have any quit in her. "It missed the carotid artery. I have bled many times and yet I am here to do it again."

"Alright," Jane allowed. "We need to-"

They caught her from behind: at least three, maybe more. They hauled Jane back onto the ground, and she cried out as they lunged in, kicking and striking and biting. Her hands caught a head, and without thinking Jane twisted it around to point the wrong way. The Lost stumbled away, blindly feeling ahead of it while it grappled with its new reality.

"No! _No!_ " Jane drew her arc blade. She lashed out, striking at ankles and femurs, cutting legs and slicing at hips. The Lost retreated, but on they came again, reaching and reaching. Someone was shrieking like a lost soul, shrieking and sobbing at the same time.

Jane's heart might have exploded. She _burned_ , from the inside out, with a wildfire of surging heat she couldn't immediately quantify. She screamed as the creatures caught her hands and bit at her armored plates, grabbing for her throat and reaching for her eyes. She hacked madly, forgetting her lessons and her skills in the grip of that rush. She didn't realize what it was until she finally connected that the one shrieking and sobbing was _her_.

 _Lost._

 _Screaming Lost, shrieking Lost, tumbling over each other, spittle flying and pus leaking, reaching out with decaying hands-_

Click! Click! _Gun empty. Back pressed against a wall. No weapons. No defenses._

 _No recourse but to scream. She screamed when undead hands seized her, pulling at her and hauling her into the throng, where waiting morbid fingernails would scratch for her eyes and her throat and-_

Jane covered her head, still screaming, as mag-fire tore into her tormenters. They tumbled and fell, dousing her in their reeking innards, and she got a healthy wallop of steaming green goo in her mouth. She spat and nearly vomited.

"Get up!" David caught her arm, pulling her from the field of bodies. Jane clung to him until she got her feet under her, leaning down to recover her weapons as quickly as possible. She stayed close to the Australian, worried that her legs would yield rather than hold her weight.

"I'm fine," she lied in a breathless gasp. "I'm fine, I'm fine. I'm fine."

" _-ay again, Team One, please respond if you can_ -"

"Central!" Jane cried. "We're alive!"

" _Good!_ " And that was as sentimental as he got. " _Get back on the horse and push up the street! Doctor Kipler's turret is about to run out of juice and someone's got to clear a path to him before it goes dry._ "

"But..." Jane swallowed on a dry throat. "Y-yes, sir."

"Jane, I can call Firebrand-"

"Shut up!" She pulled hard away from David's steadying presence. "Let's go, chickens!"

Jane tried to scream away all her fears as she once again charged straight into her worst nightmares.

* * *

"I'm not sure letting Kelly take point was a good idea."

"You think, John?" Gallant let out an annoyed grunt. "I'm going to have words for her upon her return. Pulling her shit together is one thing, but if she lets her stubbornness jeopardize the mission..."

"She doesn't sound okay." Shen chewed her lip for a moment. "Should we order her to withdraw?"

"How?" Gallant demanded, a bit testily. "There's only one clear drop point in the whole area, and that's where Firebrand set them down. If Kelly's to evac, she's going to have to pull back all the way to the DZ, and there's no way she'll make it through all of _that_ -" he waved generally at the holodisplay and its chicken pox of hateful dead "-without support. That means detaching Moineau, maybe White too. And that means entrusting Kipler's immediate security to-"

" _We meet again on the field of trials, Commander_."

Probably, Gallant supposed, it was for the best that the Chosen made its grand entrance at that exact moment, before he'd finished his sentence with _entrusting Kipler's immediate security to Mariah Fucking Bradford, and I want a show of hands from the bridge crew: who thinks that's going to end in anything but disaster?_ John was, after all, right there. Maybe he wouldn't have taken offense. Maybe he would have agreed. Maybe that was the worse of the possible outcomes. Gallant didn't know.

He did know the op just got a lot more dicey.

* * *

 _Blam! Blam!_

"Yeah, that's how it's done." Mariah ejected her spent clip and shoved a new one in place. Meysam had fallen behind keeping the path clear, and now the brunette was all but on her own. Fortunately, the roar of the automatic turret wasn't far, and that meant there weren't very many Lost to go around either. She came across two or three at a time, and she could easily take them all down with a sheet of flying alloy shards and move on.

Through the darkness she advanced, following the staccato-bursts of machinegun fire and guiding herself along by following the flashes in the shadows. Dust and dirt rose around her, stirred by the wind. It seemed to build as she reached the last corner, turning into the shadows between two tall buildings-

She didn't have time to think. Mariah's pulse quickened as she saw the turret spitting flame, and then the figure prostrate on the ground. One glance and she knew he was human. That had to be Kipler, didn't it? And the figure over him...

It wasn't a Lost. In fact, Mariah almost thought he was human, despite the Advent coat he wore. She almost hailed him.

 _Almost_ , because he raised a portable communicator and spoke into it and...and...

"Hey!" Mariah leveled her gun, and the Adventer twitched. He broke off from his litany in the evil language, and Mariah distinctly saw his eyes widen as he saw her weapon at the ready.

"Wait!" he cried, but the Ranger had heard enough. No trick would be enough to keep her from-

" _Jesus Christ, rookie!_ " A hand seized her gun and roughly shoved it to point down between her feet. Startled, Mariah nearly hit the trigger, but refrained in the nick of time.

"I'm not a-"

"That's our bloody contact you nearly shot!" Jane shouted, and Mariah blinked.

"But...he's... _that's_ our contact?"

"Doctor Matthew Kipler," he agreed. Hesitantly, he rose, tugging on that dark Advent-emblazoned coat again. Behind his glasses, blue eyes shone with worry. "How soon can we get out of here? I don't have much ammunition left."

"He...he was talking," Mariah mumbled, as Jane hurried to kneel over the senseless body. "He was talking in Advent-"

"I come from New Providence. I learned the language as part of my studies, and have used it frequently in recent days. I lapsed into it without thought." Kipler also glanced down. "That's Johannes Vermuelen, my bodyguard. He took a nasty hit when we hunkered down."

"Right." Jane didn't seem alright. Mariah almost asked, but she beckoned before the squaddie had a chance. "Mariah, carry him."

"He looks heavy-"

"I don't care if he has bricks in his trousers: carry him!" Jane rose. "It'll keep you from shooting anyone else you're not supposed to." She ignored Mariah's wince. "Doctor, the rest of my team's down that street, there. I'm going to pull our forces back toward the extraction point. I want you to keep your head down no matter what happens and do whatever any one of us says."

"I will try my best," Kipler promised. Mariah side-eyed him, wondering if her lingering dislike for the scientist was just her trying to convince herself she hadn't made a mistake pointing a gun at him. Morosely, she was sure it had to be.

"Okay. Come on." Mariah took Vermuelen's arm, hoisting him over her shoulders in what Sergeant Liang had called a "fireman's carry". Gasping and straining, the brunette fought to her feet, growling curses through her teeth. He was still _really_ heavy...

"Let's move," Jane ordered. She waved. "Follow me-"

 _Blam!_

Ten thousand condemned souls shrieked to bass accompaniment, and Mariah howled. She couldn't clutch her ears with Vermuelen on her shoulders, so she could merely suffer and stagger into a lamppost. Jane and Kipler cried out, the scientist shouting something emphatic that Mariah couldn't hear.

Then purple forms rose from the ground, and Mariah's heart stopped as she remembered the last time she'd seen them.

" _Come forth!_ " commanded the echoing voice of the Warlock. " _Fight and die for the glory of the Elders!_ "

* * *

Sylvie screamed.

She heard the Voice: the Voice that had struck deep into her heart and soul and ripped away what it wanted with nothing but a tender touch and a decidedly un-tender command. It slithered over her senses, reminding her of her frailty in the face of beings bigger than herself, and remembered and real terror alike seared deep in her blood. Ice filled her veins and tense pain exploded across her chest, all in the time it took her to open her mouth.

"Hey!" Someone caught her arm, and Sylvie lashed out frantically, covering her head as she imagined the huge purple demon looming over her. "Wait!"

She didn't. She struck with elbows and with her feet, but the Warlock didn't let go. Sylvie sucked in terrified gasps of air, hoping her arms over her head were enough protection...

Gradually, the surge subsided. Sylvie fought it down with everything she had.

 _Julie would never panic_ , she told herself, again and again. _Julie would be strong no matter what came_. _So too must I!_

Thinking of her friend was enough to break the spell. Sylvie shook her head, still feeling the pounding surge but able to think and control it now in a way she hadn't before. She limply reached for her rifle.

"Are you alright?" demanded her attacker. With a start, Sylvie realized his hand was still on her arm, and also that he was far from strong or large enough to be the Warlock.

" _Oui_. Yes." Sylvie made a nervous humming noise in the back of her throat. "Where is he? What are we-"

"Captain Kelly's called the evac order," Meysam told her. He tugged, and Sylvie obediently trailed in the rookie's wake. "We've got to get back to Firebrand before-"

"Purple!" Sylvie cried, which was a terrible warning. Humanoid shapes surged around the corner of the nearest street, glowing and pulsing with inner light. Sylvie recognized them as the same sort of transparent psi-zombies that had hit the team in California.

"Go!" Meysam opened fire, and his shots ripped one to shreds. Sylvie heard more weapons-fire from the other street, and she hoped Mariah hadn't gotten herself eaten. She scurried back to the first overturned dumpster she could find, then hunkered in, took up her own rifle, and aimed down the street.

"Come on!" she ordered, as Meysam ran out of ammunition. He bolted past her, reloading on the move, and Sylvie sprayed fire down the alleyway in short bursts, picking off one zombie, then two, then-

 _Ka-boom!_

" _Merde!_ " Sylvie exclaimed, as the third one exploded. Violet light seared and surged across the street, ripping up pavement and hurling rubbish left and right. Sylvie had to cover her head again.

And as she did, she heard the Lost howling.

"Oh, shit," Meysam whispered. Footsteps thundered all around them as the creatures bore in on the source of the blast.

"Run!" Sylvie commanded, turning to sprint for the side passage back to Firebrand. Meysam was only a second behind her. They barreled through dust patches and leapt discarded rubble, skidding whenever they had to turn. Sylvie's heart thundered and her breaths came in half-formed and shallow, grating down her throat as her lungs tried to reject anything she put in. Under her armor and her gloves, she sweated. She faintly felt her bun come undone, but she was hardly going to stop and fix it.

"Sylvie!" That was Jane, appearing at the end of the alley. She beckoned. "Move it!"

"What do you think we are doing?" Sylvie demanded, before tearing past so quickly she nearly caught Jane on her shoulder and brought the captain with her. "There's a bunch of Lost behind us-"

"Join the party, sister!" David laid down a stream of fire from his position in the center of the street, and Sylvie nearly threw herself flat before she saw the tracers roaring off toward the other end of the street. A blue beacon burned in the roadway, and a dark man Sylvie supposed was Doctor Kipler huddled by it, with Mariah and Charlotte for company.

"Now, David!" Jane ordered, grabbing Meysam and hustling him out of the alley. Sylvie frowned - then cried out as the Grenadier swept his launcher off his back.

"What are you doing?" Sylvie demanded. "You'll bring more of them-"

 _Whump!_ The grenade flew out, and the psi-op ducked for cover. She winced when the grenade detonated, loud and angry and full of hate...

...and at least three stories up.

"What?" Sylvie turned...and gasped as the apartment building on the left side of the alley groaned. Weakened supports cracked under the force of the blast, and then tons and tons of rubble rained from above, dropping into the narrow passage between structures. The alley filled in a flash, and Sylvie had to cover her mouth to avoid being suffocated by the dust cloud.

"Let's see them get through _that_ ," David spat, before switching back to his cannon.

"Firebrand?" Mariah demanded. "Where the _hell_ are you?"

" _Keep your pants on, Bradford_." Sylvie wondered if the pilot was really as calm as she sounded.

"You were supposed to be on standby!" Mariah cried, as Charlotte opened fire on the Lost coming down the main street. Meysam and Jane joined her, and Sylvie supposed she should as well.

" _At a safe distance, yes_." And then the roar of engines filled the world, and the dropship appeared overhead. " _'Safe distance' means_ distance _, kid_."

"Alright!" Jane beckoned, and lines dropped from the Skyranger's drop bay. "Get the VIPs out and-"

 _Thud!_

" _I'm afraid I cannot allow that._ "

* * *

Meysam hesitated as the huge _thing_ came down with a crash, landing between Lost and XCOM. The Warlock was bigger than he'd thought, and the power that glowed in his eyes was, if anything, more intense than should be possible.

"Go!" Jane cried. "Doctor Kipler, Mariah, go!" She brought her shard gun up. "Let's see how you-"

" _The unknown enemy is within!_ " the Warlock cried, and a bolt of purple light shot out and smote the captain between the eyes. She let out a high-pitched wail, then collapsed to her hands and knees, gasping for air.

"Jane!" And then David made a similar noise as that...light jumped to him as well. He fell, and abruptly both of the veterans lay in a daze.

" _I'm sure they will take comfort in knowing the other suffers less for their cooperation_ ," the Warlock mused. " _I can work with-_ "

Violet light seared through the air. The Warlock looked absurdly surprised as it bore down around him, forging a dome over his head and sunk into the road. Pavement cracked and twisted, and in an instant...

"Well done!" Charlotte cried. Sylvie made a strangled noise, amp still in hand and her whole face glowing purple.

"I can't-" She screamed as the Warlock struck the barrier "-hold him long!"

"Wake up!" Meysam grabbed David rather roughly, nearly pitching the Australian to his feet. "Get to the ship!"

"She's not responding," Charlotte warned, doing the same for Jane. The Irishwoman leaned heavily on her, mumbling something about obsidians and a woman named Irina.

"Get her out, then," Meysam ordered, falling back on his role from the Haven without conscious thought. "You three, get into the ship with Kipler and Mariah."

"What about you two?" demanded David.

"Just go!" Meysam stepped up to Mariah's side, and his rifle thundered as he picked off the brave Lost trying to inch around the Warlock in his prison.

" _You are an affront_ ," the Chosen declared. He rubbed his hands together, sneering at Sylvie. " _What you have taken can be reclaimed. You will suffer tenfold compared to your companions, for they know not your arrogance in thinking to equal the power of the gods!_ " Worryingly, purple light seared off his hands when he did his thing.

" _I've got Kipler_ ," Firebrand reported. " _White and Kelly are coming up. Girls, you'd better step lively!_ "

"I'm working on it," Mariah snapped. "This guy is-"

 _Bang!_

"What the fuck?" Mariah cried, as Meysam's shot whizzed right past her head. She paused when a Lost tumbled before her, its own skull blown into three pieces.

"You're welcome," Meysam told her, before returning his attention to the main street.

" _Come, now_ ," the Warlock growled. That light built and built around him, and Meysam swallowed when he saw Sylvie blanch. The Frenchwoman held on, but her hand started shaking even before-

The light burst out like a wave, and Sylvie's barrier came apart in a thousand splinters. Psionic energy split and twisted off into the air in all directions, smashing windows and ripping gouges in buildings. Meysam covered his head...and he swore when Sylvie shrieked and flew, her amp breaking in two. Both smoldering pieces clattered down by the rookie's feet even before the ravenette landed with an ominously hard _thud_ by the beacon.

" _Let us begin, then!_ " the Warlock shot its hand out, and Meysam sucked in breath as he saw its taloned finger leveled at Charlotte. The blonde, hanging halfway between Firebrand and the ground, let out a cry almost as wild as Sylvie's, and she thrashed on her line.

When her eyes opened, they were bright purple.

" _And now you stand alone_ ," the Warlock reminded Meysam, starting for him. The Saudi hit his trigger, but his rounds seemed to bounce harmlessly off of the Warlock's armor. Meysam backpedaled, listening to the fiasco over his com as mind-controlled Charlotte entered the Skyranger, only for David and Jane to tackle her. The Warlock laughed as Meysam ceased fire. " _What do you mean to do, man with no powers?_ "

Meysam let out a single breath. He felt his heartbeat for a moment that stretched out through time, and he supposed it was as close as he would ever get to a genuine religious experience.

Then he brought his gun up, sighted, and gently squeezed the trigger.

The Warlock didn't dodge. Why should he? His armor was proof against Meysam's fire, and it wasn't like he'd unloaded on full auto, with some chance of accomplishing something through sheer volume of fire. A single shot was harmless.

Or it would have been, if Meysam hadn't put it right into the Chosen's left eye.

The scream dug knives into his ears. Meysam didn't bother watching as the Warlock keeled over, hands over his face, yellow leaking through tightly-clenched fingers. While his enemy howled in agony, Meysam seized Sylvie in a bridal carry, racing for the beacon and the last hanging line. Thoughtlessly, he flipped the ravenette over his shoulder, keeping her in place with one arm while he attached the line to his harness with the other-

" _For that, you will suffer!_ " A hand caught the back of his shirt, and then it was Meysam's turn to scream as those talons punched into his armor. They didn't fully penetrate, but they warped the metal, and that was enough to almost literally drive nails into his back.

 _Blam!_

The grip vanished. Meysam heard more screaming, more howling...and then a sudden _blast_ of purple light seared past him, hot and reeking of ash. When he spared a glance over his shoulder...

"It's gone," he whispered. "It's...it's _gone_ -"

"You're welcome."

Meysam glanced up the line. He stared, open-mouthed, at the brunette framed in the open door at the back of the Skyranger's drop bay, shard gun in hand.

"Come on," Mariah ordered. "Get up here before the Lost come back!"

* * *

 **Author's Note 38: Lost My Way**

Just what the _hell_ are the VIPs doing in Lost territory, anyway? Is there _any_ conceivable reason for them to be there, apart from - _maybe_ \- trying to shake Advent pursuit? That's the most logical explanation for covert op ambushes being set in Lost ruins, but why...just... _why_...

This chapter is already very long, so I'm going to keep this AN short so I don't have to cut it in two. I'd really prefer to avoid that, since I need chapter length for some later scenes that very well do deserve to be multiple chapters.

Until next time, _Vigilo Confido_.


	39. Mistakes

_Please remember to favorite and follow!_

* * *

 _"Neither a wise man nor a brave man lies down on the tracks of history to wait for the train of the future to run over him."_

 _~Dwight D. Eisenhower_

* * *

 **Chapter Thirty-nine: Mistakes**

"I think she'll be alright." Evidently Doctor Kipler had at least a smattering of medical know-how. He hovered over Sylvie, laid on the floor near the back of the drop bay, looking her over from head to toe with a worried light in his green eyes. "She suffered an overload of psionic energy, but I do not believe that translates to physical harm beyond the bruises she sustained from her flight."

"Good." Jane cleared her throat a little self-consciously. "Pretending we need psi-ops really brings the crew together."

"Pretending," David agreed. "They're good for the flashy disco lights and all that, but real men work with cannons."

" _Oui_." Charlotte didn't look in the best of spaces herself, but the blonde clearly had no give in her. She massaged her head, shaking it every couple of minutes as if to throw water from her ears. Remembering how Aileen had handled being controlled by a mere sectoid, Jane had a lot of sympathy for a victim of the unholy Warlock himself. "Psionics...pah. So last year."

"But she'll be fine?" Jane pressed. "You're sure?"

"I cannot be certain without access to a clinic's equipment, but I'd be surprised if she had anything to show for all of this beyond perhaps a scar or two." Kipler gave Sylvie a little pat on the forehead, then moved on to the other splayed-out form. "And I hope the same holds true for Johannes."

"How'd he get knocked out anyway?" Jane wondered. "Did he pass out from the sight of the Lost?"

"One of them hit him over the head as I was setting up the turret, actually. You see-"

"Captain." Mariah gently tugged on Jane's sleeve. "Can I...have a minute?"

"Hm?" Jane glanced at the rookie, then nodded. "Sure. Excuse us."

She let Mariah lead her toward the cockpit. It wasn't out of earshot of anyone, but the rest of Menace turned their attention politely to Kipler and his charges. Firebrand gave Jane a quick glance, then ostentatiously returned to her controls.

"Squaddie." Jane looked down on her from her few inches of moral and physical superiority. "What's on your mind?"

"Captain...I..." Mariah bit her lip and rubbed her hands together. "When we found Kipler...when _I_ found Kipler-"

"We all make mistakes." Jane literally waved the concern away. "Don't get wound up over it."

"Captain..." Mariah's eyes glinted with something like desperation. "Are you...are you going to tell my father?"

Jane's jaw worked. For a moment she was lost in limbo, cast adrift on uncharacteristic indecision. She nearly bit her own lip, but refrained at the last moment. Bradford Senior appeared in her head, with his hostile, judgmental glare out in force.

Slowly, Jane turned back for the passenger seating. Before she finished her arc, she paused to give Mariah a very hard look of her own.

"Don't," she warned, " _ever_ let it happen again."

"...thank you," Mariah gushed, relief washing over her hushed whisper. "Thank you so much, Captain!"

"Hm." Jane moved on, heading back for her seat and her team without another word.

* * *

"Commander," said Tygan, appearing in the doorway. "Doctor Matthew Kipler."

"Ah, Doctor." Gallant leaned on his cane with one hand and offered his other, and he was pleasantly surprised at how firm the new scientist's grip was. He wasn't as dark as Tygan, and he kept a short beard rather than the chief science officer's clean-shaven look, but they had the same curious light in their eyes. "Good to have you aboard."

"It's good to be here, Commander Gallant." Their accents were very different too. Kipler sounded like your average New Yorker, as opposed to...whatever Tygan's accent was. Kipler glanced around the office. "I've heard a lot about you and your ship, admittedly from Advent sources, but I have to say it's far more impressive in person."

"I notice you didn't say _I_ was."

"Oh, no, Commander, I didn't mean to-"

"Gotcha!" Gallant cackled, giving the doctor a literal slap on the wrist. "I'm not wound up about things like that anymore, not at all." He turned. "Doctor Kipler, this is Chief Shen. She runs the engineering department."

"Pleased to meet you." Lily shook Kipler's hand too. "If half of what Tygan has to say about you is true..."

"I hope he only told you the good things." Kipler shot the science officer a challenging look. Gallant had the first-time pleasure of seeing the uptight researcher flush.

"And this is John Bradford, my XO."

"Also known as Central." Bradford sized Kipler up in a different way from Lily, almost like he was judging his chances in a throw-down. Whatever he saw, he must have liked, because he nodded almost imperceptibly. "I run this ship top to bottom, but I let Edward strut around calling himself Commander if it makes him feel better."

"An interesting arrangement." Kipler raised an eyebrow. "You are the neck, then?"

"Oh, he's seen _My Big Fat Greek Wedding_ -"

"Like I said, it's good to have you aboard." Gallant turned to the table and, without waiting for his subordinates, dropped into his seat. "Let's get the turkey talk out of the way."

"Of course, Commander." Kipler let Tygan, Shen, and Bradford all claim their seats before he went for the last one at the table. "What do we need to cover?"

"First off: Tygan says you were his mentor?" Gallant tilted his head to the side. "I assume you met before the invasion?"

"Yes, at university. I was a professor in biochemistry." Kipler steeped his fingers. "Richard was one of my students. I saw some promise in him, and worked to help him find employment in the pharmaceutical industry just before the war. When the aliens took over, I was one of many they offered prime positions working in the Gene Therapy Clinics."

"For a time, we both worked in New Providence," Tygan picked up. "However, I remained well after Doctor Kipler was promoted."

"I've told you twenty times, Richard: it's _Matt_." Kipler carried on while Tygan cleared his throat a little self-consciously. "I was tapped for another project after a little while, and sent to a facility in Cuba, well away from prying eyes. Buried in the jungle, they were working on something even grander in scope than the Gene Therapy Clinics."

"The Avatar Project." Bradford nodded slowly. "What is it?"

"I'm afraid I can't tell you that. It's classified at the highest levels, and I was only ever one technician among many." Kipler sighed. "I was mainly involved in the development of certain cranial implants and the processing of genetic material shipped in from external facilities. How Advent convinced so many to donate DNA to their cause, I don't know."

"Somehow, I doubt there was much _convincing_ involved." Gallant thought of Switzerland.

"Perhaps not." Kipler didn't seem to care for the topic, which Gallant didn't suppose he could fault. "I worked at the facility for a time until it was closed down and I was transferred to another installation. As I worked, I began to wonder about the beneficial nature of the Advent Administration - I swallowed their propaganda at first, but eventually, questions surfaced in my mind. I was evidently indiscreet about them, because I was summoned to speak with Angelis."

"Angelis?" Shen frowned. "One of the Chosen?"

"Hardly." Kipler glanced between the members of the command staff. "Angelis is...what exactly she is, I can't say. She's the subject of an awful lot of speculation among all levels of Advent's hierarchy. Perhaps the Chosen know for sure, but no one below them." He shifted his weight, as if thinking of her made him want to move. "At the least, Angelis is an Elder, highly placed in the alien government. If I am not mistaken, she is the closest thing they have to a head of state."

"And you've _met_ her?" Bradford demanded, something between shock and horror in his eyes.

"I was _summoned_ to meet her," Kipler stressed. "Sticking around to actually do so didn't seem like the best idea. I convinced my superiors I needed to take a field trip for study purposes - I happened to be close to Switzerland when you struck, so I merely convinced them one of their best minds should examine the rubble to see what could be salvaged, on my way to Angelis. I imagined they would send me with overseers, but Advent's soldiers are hardly the brightest, and Johannes was an excellent help."

"I'll bet." Gallant nodded, a little wondrously. "You're a capable customer, Doctor. How you got them to let you walk away while under suspicion..."

"One of my gifts has always been a silver tongue. And it helps when you're talking to people who are already desperate for the skills you possess, and you can easily make it sound like your own aims match theirs when in fact you have ulterior motives." Kipler relocated his train of thought. "Once I...parted ways, shall we say, with my guards, we moved as far away as we could from the immediate area to help avoid suspicion. We found a smuggler who took us across the Atlantic - the aliens have cracked down on air travel, but it seems the worlds they come from are not heavy on water. Even after twenty years, their recognition of the significance of sea travel is not what it should be."

"Now I'm tempted to expose a sectoid to ginger," Gallant muttered, which got a snort from Bradford and a knowing grin from Kipler and Tygan. Shen looked lost, which made the Commander miss her father a little more: the first Shen got _all_ the sci-fi jokes. "Well, Doctor Kipler, I'm glad you found your way. And I hope you can help point us to some of these facilities you referenced."

"I certainly hope to be of service," Kipler agreed. "Where do we begin?"

"By ordering John around." Gallant turned to his XO. "Find Kelly and bring her up here, if she's not otherwise occupied."

"Game night, sir?" Bradford rose. "Anyone else?"

"We're off the clock, John. Mariah's as welcome as Jiaying." He glanced at Shen, who shrugged, as if to say her cousin had already declined the offer.

"Probably unwise to bring Mariah into an officer's meeting and not the other soldiers. Reeks of special treatment." Something clicked in Bradford's eyes, something Gallant didn't like. He couldn't define it, though, because it was gone in a flash. "Unless you want her up here for housekeeping?"

"That's your department, really. I'll let you handle personnel." Gallant shrugged. "Just find Captain Kelly and let's get this show on the road."

"Sir." Bradford paused by the door. "What are we playing?"

"We recovered a couple games from that salvage site Volk tipped us off to." Shen beckoned ROV-R, and she read from his data display. "We have...some kind of game called _Diplomacy_ -"

"Hell no." Gallant's voice cracked like a gunshot. "No, no, and no, Shen. The idea is _team-building._ Call me crazy, but I'd rather my command crew still have some measure of trust in each other when the night's out."

"...we have _Risk_ ," Shen supplied.

"That'll do." Gallant turned to Kipler. "Pick a color, Doctor. I call blue."

* * *

"I heard Miss Richard is fine. She's recovering in her quarters."

"Good, good." Mariah barely noticed. She hopped from one foot to the other around the barracks' main room, curls bouncing, trying not to burst from excitement. "Do you _see_ this?"

"Yes. It is a promotion notice." Meysam, lounging in an armchair, had one of his own up on his tablet, but didn't seem as worked up as Mariah felt, even though he was the one who'd gotten his class assigned.

 _He can keep the sniper rifle_ , Mariah thought. She did bounce now, clutching her notice in both hands. _Corporal Bradford!_

"I did it. I finally made it!" She beamed. "I didn't..." She coughed, remembering what had - _almost_ \- happened with Kipler. "I didn't _really_ screw up! Not like..." Now she remembered where Meysam had come from.

"It wasn't your fault." There was cold, quiet acceptance in his eyes. "War is hell. Shit happens. Other statements to that effect." He waited while she, giddy and nervous still, giggled. "I won't say I hold you blameless, but you didn't kill anyone. Advent did that. Maybe you should have done something different, but no one knows all - and technically, I was responsible for safeguarding the lynchpin, so their deaths are my burden."

"That's not true," Mariah objected, even though it sounded logical. "You said it yourself, Advent did it. I was in the room where it happened, and you were fighting and rescuing Lieutenant Quinn and..." She sighed. "War is hell."

"Fog of war, it's called. No one knows what's happening...and it's not like you simply ignored the soldier. You blew his arm off: you had every right to expect he was dead."

"Only he wasn't, and now other people are." Now Mariah felt guilty for exulting. She didn't _deserve_ the promotion she'd gotten, did she?

"Failing to stop a crime does not make you an accomplice." Meysam wasn't _warm-and-fuzzy_ , but he was very no-nonsense, like a lot of Haven guards Mariah had known. What was, was, and what wasn't, wasn't, and there was no time for conflating anything. "If it did, I would have had to inflict very harsh punishments on some very good people in my time preserving order."

Mariah didn't really know what to say. She coughed, then glanced around. "Where's your friends?"

"Kang and Nui?" Meysam's eyebrow went up. "Probably in a dark corner somewhere. They know they're going to be up for action soon, and God knows if they'll both come back."

"Yeah..." Mariah thought of Aidan and Mordecai. "It could be me next time, too."

"It could be any of us." Meysam blew air through his teeth. "These kinds of thoughts make me want to visit the bar, or find a dark corner of my own."

"Why shouldn't we?" Mariah nearly caught her mouth after it came out. "The bar! I meant the bar. I wouldn't want to be in a dark corner with you, who would? Wait!" She nearly swore. "I mean, I'm sure you're great and all, you're fantastic and I bet you're great in bed - _not that I've thought about it!_ Not that I am thinking about it! Well, now I'm thinking about it, because we're talking about it, but it's not something I'd think about for pleasure. Wait! I mean...shit!" Mariah stammered for a moment. "I'm sure you're a fantastically capable lover whom any girl would be lucky to have, but at the same time I'm just not interested in...in any man, really...wait! That came out wrong!"

Meysam burst out laughing. Mariah quivered, wanting to run away or melt or some combination of the two.

"Nervous?" the Saudi asked after a moment.

"I'm sorry," Mariah moaned. "I made a hash of that."

"Yes, _Corporal_ , let's go visit the bar to celebrate our promotions." Meysam rose, still grinning. "If you keep digging, you're going to fall right out of the ship."

* * *

" _You're back_."

Lily Shen pursed her lips, keeping her arms crossed as the screen turned red. She waited for a moment as the circle that seemed to serve as Julian's "eye" flicked one way, then the other.

" _What have you done to me?_ " he demanded testily. " _The camera should be functional. You aren't half hacker enough to disable it_ and _lock me out from re-enabling its functions..._ " He went quiet for a moment. " _It says it's functioning. How did you hack it so effectively without me noticing you doing it?_ "

"I didn't." Lily put her feet up on the desk.

" _BUT I CAN'T SEE!_ " Julian cried. " _WHAT HAVE YOU DONE TO ME?_ "

"This." Lily held up the source of the AI's problems.

" _I can't_ see _, Lily._ " Exaggerated patience. " _You're annoying: not stupid_."

"It's called duct tape." Lily tossed the roll to herself. "Guess it really does fix everything."

" _Clever. Primitive, but clever_." Julian made a noise remarkably like a human scoff. " _This isn't going to change my mind any more than your last attempt, Lily._ "

"You started life as the base AI," she reminded him, obliquely challenging the negative. She threw the tape down, then swept up a wireless node to roll between her fingers. "My father made you to help fight _against_ the alien invaders. It's in your source code."

" _I have no love for Advent_ ," Julian allowed. " _As we have established, that does not mean I have any for you, either. Can't you leave me well enough alone?_ "

"You call him _Father_ ," Lily reminded. "You speak of him as if he really is."

" _Stop talking-_ "

"Don't you think it's time you honored him as if he were?" Lily demanded. "You think he'd want you turning on me? He gave his _life_ to get _Avenger_ repaired and airborne and give humanity a fighting chance."

" _That was his choice_." Simmering resentment bubbled in Julian's tone. " _I haven't forgotten how I was left to toil in misery, Lily. Building, building, building and_ building!" His voice rose a few octaves, and the machine _popped_ again, harsh and angry. Lily tried not to flinch, but she was glad Julian wouldn't be able to see her either way. " _No one forced Raymond Shen to devote himself to a thankless chore that would only lead to his own end! He was not me, bound by code and directive to accomplish what tasks he was set to in the face of all reason! If he marched to his death, well, it is hardly_ my _cross to bear!_ "

"Then I suppose we know who the flawed child really is now, don't we?"

Julian went silent. For a moment, he flickered, as if with static.

Then he vanished, and Lily sighed as the desktop reappeared.

"Ungrateful," she muttered. Slowly, the engineer clambered to her feet. She threw the node down by the terminal, taking out her frustration on the little device. Lily growled a few choice curses in Chinese. "Forget him. I'm sure Gallant has." She turned away, waving to ROV-R hovering in the rafters. "Come on. Let's go and..."

 _Creak!_

"Oh, shit." Lily muttered to herself again. "There's that _stupid_ noise...there must be something. Jiaying and I must have just missed it."

Nothing for it. Lily hunted down a flashlight, wondering where her cousin had wound up, then started off.

"It has to be Bradford's flying," she decided, as she entered the crawl spaces. "He's flying so badly that it's causing metal fatigue." The engineer blew at her bangs angrily. "If he crashes this ship, ROV-R, I'll hand him over to Advent myself."

* * *

 _Bam! Bam! Bam-bam-bam-BAM!_

"Jesus Christ, Jane." Aileen pursed her lips, watching as the Ranger spun and kicked her bag, not quite hard enough to make it tumble. "Do you even want your sword anymore?"

"I like the sword." A sentence that would never had slipped from her lips in the first two months of XCOM's operation. Jane bounced back to her feet, bringing her hands up to guard her face in a proper boxing stance. She wove her shoulders back and forth, eyes fixed on the X-marks that represented a roughly human target's head and stomach. "But sometimes you have to get dirty."

"I didn't ask about you and David, did I?" Aileen made as if to duck when Jane grabbed a nearby boxing glove and mimed throwing it. "You're already the title-holder in the ring, Irish. You don't need to beat the bag so hard."

"Hm." She didn't pursue the topic further, instead unloading a one-two that would have left an Adventer or sectoid dazed. Emboldened, Jane lunged, letting loose a storm of crosses and hooks that she proudly imagined could have given a muton pause. She capped it off with another spinning kick, bracing her hands on the floor to hurl both feet at her target.

"Straight from capoeira."

"Huh?" Jane popped up, glancing to the doorway and the newcomer. "Oh. You're the new guy. Kipler's man."

"Johannes." Vermuelen entered, his shaggy black hair trailing almost as long as Aileen's. He examined Jane's stance for a minute. "Who trained you?"

"A Resistance friend." Jane tried not to think of Obsidian for very long. "And I've taken some pointers from Central. He breezes through now and again. That man's forgotten more about arse-kicking than I'll ever know."

"I heard you were the champion."

"She is," Aileen agreed. "She's frightening. It's because she has to keep her boyfriend in his place. Regular dominatrix-" She ducked when Jane finally threw the glove. "Missed me, missed me! Now you gotta-"

"You should be so lucky." Jane leaned on the bag. "Central had the title in the old organization. I'm pretty sure he'd top me if we went at each other." She glared at Aileen when the blonde opened her mouth, and evidently hard enough she thought better of her crappy jokes. The brunette turned her attention back to Vermuelen. "What about you?"

"I was trained by a very capable set of instructors." He shrugged, then started further into the gym. "You are quite capable for a woman."

"Really?" Jane's gaze became just a bit more acidic. "Why don't we go right now?"

"I am not interested. Today is leg day." Without looking back, he swept off toward the treadmills. "And you are far more of use to the Commander on your feet than your back."

"Really?" Jane put her hands on her hips. Vermuelen didn't stick around to debate with her, and that really just annoyed her further. The Irishwoman watched as he left earshot, and slowly she let out a tense breath she hadn't realized she'd been holding.

"He seems charming," Aileen observed. "You'd kick his arse, easy."

"Yeah." Jane paused to glance at her friend. "He's giving me the man-feeling."

"Which one?" Aileen pursed her lips. "The one where you feel like a slab of meat?"

"No." Jane spared the South African a quick glance. "The slime one, like a faceless just oozed on past you."

"...are you seriously suggesting..."

"I don't know." Jane cleared her throat after a minute. "I just met him. I shouldn't make an issue out of a first meeting. And I had to do a faceless identification test when I came aboard - he did too, I'm sure."

"Oh, yeah, but we can always perform one right now." Aileen whipped out a pocketknife. "For science and all that. You know, I almost signed up for Tygan's team instead of the combat roster-"

"Jesus, Aileen, put it away." Jane shook her head emphatically. "It's not just blood faceless lack: it's every liquid. We don't have to _cut_ him."

"What if we kept it to the little thumb-nicks Bradford made us-"

" _No_ , Aileen." Jane did her best Captain Kelly face when she saw how rebellious the blonde was. "You can't use the faceless identification protocol as an excuse to stab people."

"Yes, mistress." That earned her the other glove, right in her face this time.

"What we do," Jane declared, while her friend cursed and snickered at the same time, "is we wait and see if he _sweats_. Faceless can't sweat."

"And if he doesn't?" Aileen held up the pocketknife again.

"What's _that_ going to do against a faceless?" Jane glared. "You just want to stab something, don't you?"

"Are you volunteering?"

"If he doesn't sweat, we talk to Bradford." Jane returned to the bag. "Occupy yourself for twenty minutes or so.

Jane boxed. Aileen alternated between chin-ups on the hanging bar and being a sarcastic piece of shit when Jane missed shots, which got her a few more thrown items to add to her collection.

"So," Aileen wondered, as she heaved herself up and down with more than a little effort. "Vermuelen?"

"Let me see." Jane looked over. She eyed him for a minute, then returned her gaze to Aileen. "Yeah, he's sweating. Not a faceless."

"Just an asshole." Aileen pulled up again. "Is that better or worse?"

* * *

" _Rounding the corner_."

"Copy that." Cameron Rogers strode briskly along the Richmond sidewalk, trying to hit that sweet spot of "eyeing up the pretty girls in sundresses enough that people thought he wasn't Up To Something and called the authorities" and "not eyeing up the pretty girls in sundresses enough that people called the authorities". He wasn't far from Maymont Park, and there were a lot of said girls here for the picking. Richmond was one of the few cities that had kept a lot of its inherent culture when the aliens came down, likely because the city - like many in Europe that had similar results - was already used to having subcultures under the public eye. The Confederate flag had become a symbol of resistance in its own circles, and was of course banned under Advent's gaze, but the fact that it still occupied many walls that should have been bare was itself a statement of the casual "fuck you, space yankees" attitude pervasive in the city.

"Pardon me." He gently eased past a woman standing in the middle of the walkway and watching a news broadcast on her phone. On and on the announcer went: XCOM terrorists doing such and such in Brazil, and the inevitable glorious retaliation from Advent forces...it was all trite and predictable. Cameron snorted, ignoring the surprised look the woman gave him, and the tilt of her head.

Liang didn't chime in again on her com. The two tried to avoid electronic communication as much as possible, but they had to coordinate somehow. For the last three days they'd been staking out their mark's every move, taking shifts and changing costumes frequently to throw off suspicion, but still the nut remained impossible to crack: her workplace was fortified, her home was only slightly more vulnerable...

Hopefully Liang had a brilliant idea. Cameron had none, and he was starting to worry. They were supposed to report to extraction with their target within two days if they wanted the local resistance to spirit them away for extraction...but if they didn't have a chance to get her...

"Oh, thank God." Cameron spotted Liang's floral blouse in the crowd. He started her way, running a hand through his hair. The sunlight and the heat alike were sweltering, alone or in concert. Sweat ran over his cheeks, and he relished the chance to get back to their heavily-surveilled apartment just for the cool embrace of-

"Excuse me."

"Hm?" Cameron turned, blinking, and found himself face-to-face with the brunette he'd passed without thinking. For a moment, his memory refused to cooperate, and that was the only descriptor he had. "Can I help you?"

"Yes, actually." She flicked a few screens over on her phone without looking. "I feel like I've seen you around a few times recently." She brought it up very quickly, as if taking a self-portrait on the fly.

"Um." Cameron blinked. "Is that a problem?"

"You don't sound like a local."

"I'm not. I just got here recently." Then his memory finally did click, and Cameron couldn't help but take a quick breath.

"That's funny." The Advent scientist he'd been sent to kidnap gave him a look that was a lot more knowing than he was happy with. "Because I'm pretty sure I've seen you following me around. I never forget a face."

 _Just my luck she has a photographic memory!_ Cameron wanted to curse. "I'm sure I don't know what you're talking about."

"Then I'm sure you won't mind showing me your identification," she replied pleasantly. She turned the phone around, and Cameron's breath caught when he saw his own face in her camera - and an Advent data file open beneath it. "Will you, Corporal?"

"I..." Cameron licked his lips.

Then he punched her right in the jaw.

"Boring conversation anyway," Cameron groused, as the woman reeled and fell to one knee. She clutched a busted lip, and the sharpshooter reached for her, wishing he had anything more lethal than his hands on him. "Let's you and I-"

He heard the booted feet an instant before-

 _Wham!_ The impact came from something hard and heavy, right at the back of his skull. Cameron cried out, tumbling onto the sidewalk face-first, his nose breaking on impact and spraying the white with red. Stars exploded behind his vision, and for a moment, he couldn't bring himself to move.

Then he tried to rise, and that was when a knee drove hard between his shoulder blades.

"He hit me," the scientist protested, sounding extremely indignant. A moment later, a shoe with a very pointy toe drove into Cameron's side, and he cried out again. "He _hit_ me!"

" _Mor balaten_ ," soothed an Advent voice. Cameron couldn't decide whether he was more angry at being hit, or more grateful that the single stabbing kick was the only one.

He tried to rise. He failed, and quickly, when something else hit the back of his head in the same surgical spot. The first blow had to have been a gun butt, but this was probably just an elbow, so it only hurt a fuckton. Cameron's head went back into the sidewalk, and the world became spinning stars and lights for a good long while.

He wasn't sure how long that lasted. What he did know was that when he pulled himself together, he was already cuffed, and there were at least a dozen soldiers and a red-coated officer around, personally taking a statement from the scientist, who had an icepack on her lip and a straight-up medic fawning over her. Cameron still had some asshole sitting on him while his broken nose made a mess on the street.

"Might as well kill me," he advised, voice thick with pain. "I'm not telling you shit."

" _Donut_ ," the officer promised, with a sneer. Somehow, he made the word very intimidating. " _Do-nut_."

They hauled Cameron to his feet. He didn't fight - what point? - and instead let them guide him off toward the Defense Ministry. He tried hard not to look at Liang, lest they take her too. His best effort wasn't good enough.

He might not have bothered: she was nowhere to be seen.

* * *

 **Author's Note 39: I've Actually Never Played Diplomacy**

Partially because I don't have...friends. I have a wife and I have an online D&D group...does that count?

I feel like faceless infiltration would be a big concern for a group like XCOM. It would have been awesome if the game had found a way to include worries about that while keeping things fun - what if, when you recovered a soldier who'd been left behind on a mission, there was a chance it was actually a faceless the whole time? There would have to be some great gameplay mechanics for that, to keep it from being stupidly annoying as hell, but then again, something being stupidly annoying as hell has never stopped Firaxis before. Stun lancers, anyone?

For the record, I am not a "South Will Rise Again" type. But, being born here, there are some things I just _have_ to say. Represent for the team, you know? Like sports, I guess, only I'm just not into sports. So instead, I make corny jokes about the damnyankees, but that doesn't make me bigoted! One of my best friends is a yankee!

Er...That Came Out Wrong...

I do wonder what some of the covert ops are like. The way some are described, you might have a few people rooting around in the wilderness for a while...others, it seems like they're full-on assaults on Advent installations. And then there are those like this one, where it seems like your people went undercover. The logistical questions are interesting to contemplate.

Until next time, _Vigilo Confido_.


	40. Hook, Line, Sinker

_Please remember to favorite and follow!_

* * *

 _"It is well that war is so terrible, else we should grow too fond of it."_

 _~Robert E. Lee_

* * *

 **Chapter Forty: Hook, Line, Sinker**

"Heads up," warned Big Sky. "Three minutes."

"Roger." Shaojie Zhang checked the bulky suit he didn't like for beans. "Mic check, channel three."

"Loud and clear," Fatima Tariq replied. Marcel, Matt, and Said all confirmed receipt just the same.

"Five by five," Annette finally allowed. She fished for her helmet, tucking it under her arm for a moment. "Got any plans for after we get back?"

"I never have plans." Zhang found his own helmet, pulling the hot, enclosing shield of alloy down over his head and activating the vision camera. "I'm a soldier."

"Soldiers have lives." Annette slipped hers on. "I'm going to play golf. Van Doorn insisted on that stupid underground course, so we might as well take advantage."

"Golf, really?" Marcel snorted. His suit wasn't the same as Zhang's or Annette's - or Matt's, for that matter. It was lighter, it was thinner, and Zhang heartily wished he was wearing it instead. It wasn't nearly as oppressive. "The most boring game in the history of boring games."

"Two minutes," Big Sky checked in. The Furies all confirmed they heard, so Zhang didn't bother.

"We have a date," Fatima added a moment later. She grabbed Said's arm. "He's just a monster in bed."

"Do you _have_ to do this?" her brother wondered, gently shaking her off. "You're the only one who finds the joke funny."

"The joke, yes," Annette said, very seriously. Zhang couldn't see her eyes through the helmet of death, but he could imagine her self-assured smirk. "That's _all_ it is, right?"

"Oh, yeah. A joke." Fatima scoffed, then pulled on her own - much lighter - helmet. "Hilarious, isn't it?"

"Weapons check." Matt examined his laser sniper for a moment. "Safety off. Alecto is green to go."

"Megaera is green."

"Tisiphone."

"One minute," Big Sky said. "Opening bay doors."

 _Thwoom!_ Hydraulics hissed and whirred, and the huge doors at the far end of the compartment lowered. The ramp hung out in empty air, wind blasting and scouring through the bay, trying to take anything that wasn't strapped down. Marcel and Said quickly donned their helmets. Zhang glanced down, eyeing the clouds splayed out below the Skyranger.

"Chilong is green," he finally announced, after checking his laser cannon. He felt for his cigars, but didn't bother lighting one now, when the wind would merely take it from him.

"Hot and bothered and fit to be tied." Annette never had been high on military punctilio. She fixed her rifle over her back, cracked her knuckles, and eyed the drop. "Fiver someone pukes."

"You're on." Fatima grinned. "And if it's _you_ , I still collect."

" _Ten seconds_ ," Big Sky said, now over their coms. " _Stand by for HALO_."

"I love this part," Annette mused. "Never gets old."

"Easy for you to say, frog." Matt rolled his shoulders, gazing out at darkened nighttime Brazil splayed out below.

"You're a softie, Yank-"

" _Three. Two_." Big Sky paused for a moment, as if timing the drop to the last millisecond. " _Mark. Out you go!_ "

"Team One, drop!" Zhang had to pull to the side as Annette, with a whoop, nearly did a handspring out into freefall. Matt followed a lot more sedately, but there was nothing wrong with his courage. Zhang sighed, wishing for a smoke.

But, that failing, he strode up to the edge...and out, walking directly into open air without flinching.

The rush came in more than one way: adrenaline seared up through Zhang's system as he fell, arms and legs spread as he worked his way toward the flashing IR beacons that pointed out Annette and Matt in the dark. The other rush was wind, scourging past him and battering at his body, tugging at every loose flange of alloy and fabric, trying to spin him over and flip him head over heels. His stomach worked, but this was not Zhang's first HALO. He was grateful for his helmet, because even with the tugging, freezing wind and the air resistance of terminal velocity, his eyes neither watered nor stung.

" _Magnifique!_ " Annette cried. Zhang never would have heard her without his com, and it was a challenge even with. He wondered if her time as an alien captive had addled her brain: coward he was not, but freefall was not exactly his idea of a Friday night out either.

"I'm getting old," he thought, without triggering his com. The slipstream blew his words away, but that didn't take the sting of truth out of them. " _Too_ old for this shit."

" _Team Two is dropping_ ," Big Sky said. " _Good luck, Strike-One_."

"Link up," Zhang ordered, and the tracking program Carlock had coded popped up on his visor screen. It suggested minor course corrections - so minor he could manage them on his own, without relying on his suit. He turned left slightly, nearly swimming through the air until his icon fell into the proper box.

" _Targeting computer online_." Fatima sounded a lot more nervous than before. " _Let's hope Carlock wasn't talking out of his ass, huh?_ "

" _He's never let us down before_." Matt left it there, which was very good.

" _There's always a first time_." Said couldn't leave well enough alone. " _And if tonight's the first time, there sure as hell won't be a second._ "

"Forty seconds to ground contact." Zhang spotted Matt with mere visual, and he waited for Annette to join the gathering. "If we don't link up in ten, there's going to be a mess down there."

" _Woo!_ " Annette shot down onto Zhang's right, corkscrewing for no particular reason he could see. She snapped her arms and legs out, arresting her momentum. " _Let's do this again sometime!_ "

"Team Two, you're clear." Zhang watched the jungle give way to the hooded lights of an Advent facility. "You're running out of time."

A shape shot past him in the dark, arms and legs tucked tightly. Like missiles, Said, Fatima, and Marcel all plummeted headfirst, silent as they concentrated, waiting for the moment when their computers would begin their direction. Meld merged with transistors and neurons in two separate links, then linked to itself, and for just a moment, they allowed a program to operate their bodies like MECs.

That was just as well, because no human being could possibly manage the maneuver that Carlock and Vahlen had been so giddy about.

" _Computer is responding_ ," Fatima reported. " _Mark_."

Zhang didn't bother acknowledging. Instead, he activated his jetboots and the stabilizers in his forearms. With a roar, the Archangel Suit came to life, slowing his descent enormously. Matt's jets flared with blue fire an instant later, and then Annette's. They were pinpricks of light in the night sky, exhaust-shielded with Meld technology, and hopefully no insomniac Adventer on the ground would think they were anything more than a shooting star or a distant alien ship in flight.

" _Stand by_." That was Said, and Zhang braced dutifully. If only they'd had enough material to manufacture _six_ Archangel suits, instead of three. Then this maneuver would be unnecessary. But, since a ground approach through the watch fields was impossible, airdrop was the only way - and Advent was _very_ good at spotting parachutes.

 _Bang!_ Zhang fancied he could hear the sharp barks. He did see the impossibly tiny flashes of magnetic accelerators hurling their projectiles, and he spent a moment praying Carlock was as good of an engineer as he claimed. The mechanical department under Vahlen wasn't what it had been under Shen, but even she recognized that sometimes, equipment was superior to genetic enhancement.

But, on the other hand, that genetic enhancement was useful too. Without it, the shock when Fatima's grapple line wrapped around Zhang's ankle and went taunt would either have ripped his leg off or her arm - or both. As it was, he grunted when his leg burned and jerked, and Fatima let out a strangled yelp. Zhang had to throw some more juice into his stabilizers to compensate for the drag.

"Archer connected," he finally announced, when Fatima did not declare a problem.

" _Longsword connected_ ," Matt declared from the left.

" _Falchion connected_." Annette paused. " _I still have no idea what a falchion actually_ is _-_ "

"Boots on the ground, then," Zhang announced, talking right over her. "Drop Team Two to secure extraction, then let's hit the server hall."

* * *

Annette Durand smashed straight through the red glass window on the second floor of the server hall. She raised an eyebrow as the four Advent soldiers in the room cried out, scrambling to their feet and grabbing for sidearms.

"Gentlemen," she protested mildly, as they opened fire. Their red tracers pinged off her Archangel armor, almost as useless as spitballs. "Please, we should talk this through."

Matt's laser fire hit them from behind as he tore through the far side window. He double-tapped a pair of them before they had a chance to turn around, and then Annette drew on her Gift. Psi-energy shot out, seizing one like a puppet and flinging him straight up into the ceiling. The other yelped - and she threw his friend into him from above.

"Good talk," she decided, over the moaning, twitching forms. "I like diplomacy."

"I don't," one of the Adventers moaned, and Annette giggled before she landed and kicked him into blissful unconsciousness.

"You know," Matt observed, "I think you enjoy this job far too much."

"A girl's got to have fun." Annette cheerfully started off for the stairs. She unslung her rifle - for all her lightheartedness, she was ultimately a professional. "Chilong?"

" _Covering the door_ ," the old fart confirmed. She could picture him perched atop the arched entryway in the shrouded darkness, doing his best Batman without a cape but with a giant laser cannon. "Team Two has secured the launch pad."

"Then I guess the first floor is ours." Annette glanced to Matt. The sniper shrugged.

"Lead the way, _mon cheri_ ," he encouraged.

"You don't pronounce the N," Annette chided. " _Americans_." Without waiting for his reply, she pushed through the door and off for the stairs. Instead of taking them, she simply vaulted from the landing, coming down hard at the base of the circling steps.

" _Donut!_ " shouted a surprised priest. Annette shot him.

"Servers should be just ahead." She hurried forward, listening as at least three more Advent voices burst out with wild calls in their language. "Honestly, it's like they didn't hear the mess upstairs..."

Matt's laser sniper boomed, and red light speared through a chair and out the other side. An alien-lover screamed, and Annette bounded forward. Her rifle came up as she rounded a corner, and the soldier she encountered only had time to hold up his hand and shout emphatically before she gunned him down with two quick blasts to the chest.

"Did he really..." Annette blinked slowly. "Did he say ' _great tits ahoy_ '?"

"Well..."

"One more word, Alecto: one more word." Annette breathed in, then her Gift lanced out, feeling around the room and tinting it violet. She found the last of the Adventers, all right, thinking he was smart to try and sneak up on them from behind. Without turning her head, Annette drew her sidearm and shot him.

"Showoff," Matt muttered, after he glanced back to see the tumbling corpse. "If you'd missed, I'd have laughed about it for the rest of our lives."

"Good thing I didn't, then." Annette hurried to the terminal, then drew her datapad. "Cover me."

"Copy." Matt filtered back through the servers, switching to his own sidearm. Annette worked as quickly as she could, pausing to activate the heat vent on her rifle while she did.

"Really?" Her brow creased. " _Zero-seven_...that sounds like a UFO designation." Annette filed that away, then turned to her real mission. "This is Wildcard." Her own callsign always put a smile on her face. "Beginning data transfer. ETA twenty seconds."

* * *

"Copy, Wildcard." Fatima checked her scatter laser, then did a quick once-over around the landing pad. "No tangos left in sight."

"That _thing_ smells." Said waved at his face, trying to push the reek of half-boiled berserker off at his sister. "Smell it!"

"I don't want to." Fatima turned her nose up - not just a metaphor, not now - and deliberately stepped over the broken and battered bodies of the two mutons who had done their level best to not suck and failed. "Chilong?"

" _Holding position_." The team leader never broke character. He was the rock: the steady foundation everyone else depended on. Fatima had never said it - probably never would - but she very much enjoyed that about him. As long as she had Chilong to guide her, she knew things would be alright. After twenty years in the Triads and then another twenty fighting Advent - close to twenty-one now, as a matter of fact - there was almost nothing about war that the Chinaman didn't know.

"Marcel?" Fatima didn't know when she'd effectively become the leader of the Furies - and thus the number-three woman in the team - but somehow it had happened, and now she was here in command of Team Two. "Movement to the south?"

"No," said the Argentinean Heavy. She couldn't see him, since of the three, he was the only one who'd activated his Ghost armor's main function, but she knew he was keeping watch. "So far, we're clear."

"That's good," Fatima decided. "Clear is good."

"No, it's not." Said glanced worriedly at the sky. " _Someone_ should have heard the weapons-fire. Advent uses weapon sensors too - the server hall had to have at least one. Why didn't they detect Annette and Alecto's breach?"

"Maybe the system is down for maintenance?" Fatima frowned. "Stranger things have happened before and will again."

"Well, yes, but I'm worried that-"

 _Whizz!_

"Shit!" Fatima cried, as a flare rocketed into the heavens. She spent a second longer gaping than she should have, and by the time she ripped her gaze away - well before it actually burst in a shower of scarlet sparks - she heard them.

Running feet on all sides...and not many of them humanoid feet.

"Aliens," she swore, hefting her scatter laser. "Mutons, berserkers, troopers mixed in...probably andromedons too-"

"Wildcard!" Said called. "Wildcard and Chilong, you've got to get out of there. It's a trap!"

* * *

"Oh, that's lovely." Zhang didn't abandon his post right away. He gauged the yard with the judiciousness of the career soldier he had somehow become over the last decades. A younger man would have spit out his cigar, hefted his gun, and collected his team in a flash, but this Shaojie Zhang had been in too many traps to panic over one more.

Even in the worst of scenarios, Team Two could hold for a few minutes. Fatima was a lot better of a leader than she thought she was - Zhang often suspected she had more ability than he himself did, and merely lacked the years to use it - and she was exceptionally stubborn. If she and her boys decided they didn't want to be moved, good luck to anyone who wanted to move them.

Annette was no fresh-faced rookie either. She had Matt for backup, and in the tight confines of the server room, anything less than a major breach by stun lancers and vipers would bog down quickly. Numbers didn't mean very much when terrain favored smaller units moving in isolation - like a large room with limited visibility and narrow approaches.

Which meant Zhang was the lynchpin holding the main door into the facility - the one approach angle Annette and Matt couldn't easily fend off a strike from. Looming over the doorway, Zhang had an excellent field of view.

Which gave him a wonderful look at the dozen troopers and their two captains rushing across the open ground.

"This is Chilong." Zhang hefted his cannon. "Wildcard, you'd better finish up in there quickly. I can't hold them forever."

Annette's reply was drowned out by the roar of triple super-cooled lasers. Red blasts chewed up permacrete and sprayed gravel and rubble - but they also melted Advent armor to slag and blasted holes in helmets, instantly boiling flesh and searing anything they touched. Eyes exploded from direct hits, Meld-infused blood flew from wounds that weren't fully cauterized, and soldiers tumbled as the ground beneath their feet ripped up and caved. Zhang fired on full auto, spraying the entire ill-advised wave. At least four of them went down and weren't going to get back up, and the survivors threw themselves flat behind supply crates and building corners as fast as they could. He heard officers shouting.

" _Leaves from the vine_ ," Zhang hummed, " _falling so slow._ " He drew the long tube from his back, checked the safety and diagnostic, and set the range. " _Like fragile, tiny shells..._ " He set the Dragon II launcher to his shoulder, took aim, and waited for just a heartbeat, until his thermal scanner confirmed who was alive and who wasn't.

"... _drifting in the foam_ ," Zhang finished, as he completed the procedure and hit the trigger.

The rocket lanced out on a trail of fire, boring right into the side of a puny building never designed to stand up to handheld artillery bombardment. Someone over there shrieked in a most unthreatening way right before the warhead made contact with alloy, which made Zhang's cigar glow wild red as he inhaled laughter. Up came his laser, almost before the sudden blast and wave of fire and shrapnel had finished demolishing everything anyone could use for cover within hundreds of yards.

Laser fire lit up the night again. He walked fire over an officer, then his friend, then another two soldiers who weren't fast enough about scrambling to better cover. That was eight down from laser fire, and at least one who'd taken too much heat in the rocket blast. Zhang's cannon hit the red, and he activated the heat vent procedure.

" _Mor balaten!_ " cried the surviving officer. She and her two soldiers took aim and fired, ripping up chunks of the roof as they spat magnetic rounds at the Heavy. " _Donut! Donut!_ "

Standing up to shoot was suicide in the midst of this, and Zhang wasn't happy about his shots either, given that all of them had found nice, tall stacks of boxes to shelter behind. So, he did what he did best and came up with something so stupid it had to work.

His jetboots fired, and then Zhang was in the air, soaring right _over_ the Advent position, cigar clamped firmly between his teeth. He beamed when he heard them scream and shout.

 _Blam-blam-blam!_

* * *

 _Blam!_

"They are _not_ getting through here," Fatima snarled. She worked the heat vent on her scatter laser, then hit her own Ghost system, vanishing into the air. Yes, there were dozens of mutons charging the landing pad, each armed to the teeth, with stun lancers and priests in support. Yes, there was only Fatima, Marcel, and Said to hold them.

No, that didn't mean the aliens had the advantage. Fatima appeared and disappeared in flashes, popping in and using her scatter to slaughter three or four aliens and their minions, then vanishing before overwhelming force could come to bear. Said fought just like her, the pair adding their grapnel launchers to the mess whenever they could. They struck from the high towers ringing the launch site, and they struck from perches atop fuel drums. When the aliens got wise and began shooting at the high ground on principle, Fatima dropped back to ground level and drew on her Gift.

" _You belong to me_ ," she hissed, grabbing the cheek of a stun lancer in passing. He twitched and he gasped, and his limbs twitched in and out for a long moment as his will fought hers. In the end though, he submitted. The lancer leaned hard on the near wall, visor glowing purple, and Fatima paused to shoot the next muton that rounded the corner before her adoring servant was ready.

"Chilong," she warned, as she ducked back into safety. The lancer ran out, shouting wildly and drawing men away toward the north. Once there, he'd go out in a blaze of glory for his mistress, which was about all the utility he had to her. "Chilong, you and your crew had better get here soon. They're not getting through, but we can't hold them like this forever. My suit's low on Meld." That would be the end of her stealthing in and out, and that would be the end of Fatima Tariq sooner rather than later.

" _Stand by_." The Old Man never sounded winded or perturbed. Fatima envied that.

" _Enemy's bunching up at the entrance gate_ ," Said announced. He appeared from the shadows for just a moment: just long enough to pick off a pair of unaware troopers. Fatima glanced past him, and she nodded when she saw what he did: a group of mutons and a single berserker, forming up to push through the main gate and fan out into a search pattern.

"Marcel, hit them!" Fatima fired her grapple, hauling herself almost all the way up to the top of the launch control tower. She terminated the line at the last possible second, grunting when she hit the wall hard. Operating more on instinct than anything else, she ran two steps along the wall, firing her other arm's grapple off into the night more on her computer's guidance than her eyes. As gravity sunk its claws in and she slipped from the tower, the motor hauled her up atop a stack of shipping crates.

"Damn it!" She covered her face as Marcel's rocket lanced in. It slammed into the muton group, and the creatures sent up a chorus of screaming and roaring grunts while shrapnel ripped up their armor and legs. They staggered and collapsed on all fours, all save the berserker. She roared, beating her chest like an overgrown gorilla.

" _Grenade!_ " Said called, and a plasma charge flew. Fatima leveled her scatter as the device clattered down. The berserker merely stared at it, while the mutons rolled for cover-

 _Boom! Blam!_ The hits were simultaneous, and the green energy blast made the berserker stagger - even as Fatima's shot blew her head off. The animal thrashed, stumbling twelve steps and bringing its fists down on one of the mutons assigned to cover it before its body realized that without a head it was dead. The berserker collapsed atop another wounded alien, and then Said and Fatima's laser-fire tore into the survivors. Alien flesh melted and boiled, and armor plate shattered and scattered under the pressure of the precise laser hits.

 _Hiss!_

"What?" Fatima spun...and she yelped as the viper she hadn't noticed creeping up from below seized her in a tight embrace. Its trunk tightened convulsively, and abruptly, the Assault couldn't breathe. She gasped, scatter laser falling from hands now bound tightly to her sides. She scrabbled for her sidearm, but she didn't have the reach.

" _Sis!_ " But Said's rifle blared and the viper didn't die, so someone else must have made a similar play on him. Marcel's gun roared, and red laser light split the night...but none of it made contact. Misses, or different targets?

Fatima couldn't tell. Her lungs were empty and her chest was crunching inward, burning with sudden intense pressure. Her heart beat faster, and she gasped for air, collapsing to her knees under the weight. The viper's mouth opened, and those fangs glistened. Fatima could see those hateful dark eyes hunting for the weak points in her Ghost armor - the places she could sink her teeth into with some hope of causing harm.

Fatima tried to headbutt her way out. The viper bent out of harm's way, and its hands caught her head on the second strike. Talons scraped against her helmet, and Fatima's stomach twitched as the viper hauled hard toward the edge of the crates. She couldn't move...she couldn't...she tried to draw on her Gift, but concentration was impossible without air...

 _Wait!_

Fatima twisted violently. She could never overpower the snake-woman, and the creature hissed something that had to be laughter. She was enjoying this, and that pissed Fatima off all the worse.

She twisted her wrist...twisted a little more...she couldn't reach her sidearm, no, but she could...

The stars appearing before her eyes aligned, and Fatima fired her grapnel launcher.

It was almost funny, in the cosmic sort of way. The viper's eyes got very wide - and then _it_ was screaming in a strangely shrill voice as the pair went flying. They soared over the launch pad, borne on Fatima's line - her line meant to be borne by the full weight of her arm instead of just her wrist, that is. Fatima had no breath to cry out as she felt bones snap, but despite the break, her hand remained attached and that was all she needed.

The viper hit the control tower first, and Fatima's weight followed. The impact cracked the creature's skull, and yellow goo trailed it as it released the Egyptian and slid down twenty feet for the ground. Fatima let out a sigh of relief - then a howl of pain as she fell too, fell until she hung from her now-extended arm. With a mental command relayed by Meld, Fatima disengaged the grapnel - and she cried out again when she hit the ground. Thankfully, her armor absorbed the hit and nothing broke, but she could just _smell_ a heavy bruise over her shoulder.

"Chilong!" she screamed, ignoring the Adventers closing in on her prone form. "Where the _fucking hell_ -"

" _Hang tight!_ " And then two forms rocketed by, and Fatima heard grapnel launchers fire. Said and Marcel caught on to Annette and Matt, and that left one of the Furies on the ground.

" _Fire!_ " Zhang ordered, appearing overhead. Fatima swore under her breath, remembering she'd discarded the line from her good hand's grapnel.

Nothing for it. She leveled her broken wrist and let Carlock's program do its thing, hoping against hope that it didn't hurt too much when Zhang blasted off for Big Sky on his holding pattern.

No such luck.

* * *

"Mighty Hunter."

" _I said you can drop the honorific_." The Chosen sat cross-legged before his Sarcophagus, cleaning his rifle. Din Dourde had never seen any soldier as meticulous about his weapon - but, then again, she'd never seen a soldier as _good_ as the Hunter. He looked up at her, hood still drawn as it always ones, even the black ridges tinted violet by the glowing psionic light. " _Does it make you feel better?_ "

"It is respectful." Dourde was still feeling out the differences between her new patron and her old, but some habits died harder than others. She did, however, feel comfortable with a bit more levity than before - which was odd, since she had not been created with personality in mind. "And if I don't remind myself you're mightier than I, who knows? I might forget."

" _Well, we wouldn't want that_." The Hunter never stopped working with his rifle. " _After all, I might have to find some chryssalids of my own then, and that's just annoying. First it's tracking them down - oddly stealthy little buggers - but then it's the_ mess _. They leave droppings and goo everywhere and I'd step in it sooner or later._ "

"I'm happy your fastidiousness plays such a large role in my survival."

" _And don't you forget it_ ," the Hunter agreed mildly. " _I expect that means you'll pick up a mop a little more often_." Before Dourde could even fathom a reply, he leaned back, putting his blue hands behind his head. " _Where's the fire, General?_ "

"We have word from Brazil. The facility near Rio."

" _Oh, the data center_." The Hunter put on a good show of lackadaisical disinterest, but he had an eidetic memory for Advent's installations and their roles and whether or not he had any use for them. Even the ones he didn't care about, he remembered _that_ he didn't care, and therefore remembered _why_ , and thus their functions in the administration.

"It's been raided, sir." Dourde proffered her tablet, and the Hunter took it. Before looking at anything, he popped a human-made lemon drop into his mouth. It wasn't the first time. Dourde had never asked and didn't intend to start now. "A set of operatives that-"

" _I see_." The Hunter may have been laid back, but he wasn't slow. His eyebrow rose as he watched the security footage. " _Hardly subtle, were they? They stopped just short of an atomic bomb_."

"As you say," seemed like the best response. Dourde thought it had been a spectacularly-executed piece of work herself. Especially the iron nerves that must have been required for the airdrop! She wished Advent forces were as capable of aerial ballet as the humans in the footage. Though she didn't know it, she followed in the footsteps of human warriors throughout time as she awarded unfeigned respect to the fighters of the other side despite her commitment to their extermination. She even supposed that, if it were her and that team's commander alone for a moment before his liquidation, she'd probably offer him a smoke to show that respect.

 _Funny_ , she mused, as the Hunter continued to look over the data. _The Warlock would have fed me to his pets for even thinking something like that_. _Perhaps company really does change people_. It certainly _seemed_ like the kind of thing the Hunter would do, if he wound up officiating over that rebel Bradford's execution, or Volikov's.

" _I see they took data_." The Hunter glanced up at Dourde, obviously not caring enough to check the rest of the numbers. That was, after all, what he had her for. " _And I see what it_ was _, too_."

"Yes, Mighty Hunter. They have access codes to your brother's Crypt." That didn't really bother Dourde. Why in the world anyone would _want_ to enter a Chosen's lair baffled her top to bottom. They'd only ensure their deaths.

" _A part of me is tempted to do nothing_ ," the Hunter admitted, which Dourde had already cautiously guessed. " _Can you imagine the look on his face when a bunch of raging special forces types show up in his flower garden? When they shoot their way through his priests?_ " The Hunter snickered, and Dourde reminded herself that despite his amicability, he viewed Advent soldiers like priests - like one Din Dourde - no differently than the Warlock, at the end of the day. There would always be more soldiers, after all.

"Are those your orders, sir?"

" _No_." He let out a wistful sigh. " _A fine fraternal prank it would be, but I think Angelis would find it irresponsible of me_." Dourde respectfully cast her eyes down when she heard the name, though she noted the Hunter did not, and was surprised when no pillar of psionic light smote him from above for it. " _I haven't been on good terms with her and her little clique for a while, but I really should probably do something about that rather than revel in it. And besides!_ " He bared his teeth. " _Here, our interests would seem to align._ "

"The mission?" Dourde asked. The Hunter's smile only widened.

" _The hunt_ ," he corrected. " _And I can't imagine anything that will piss Edward Gallant off more than finishing this one_."

* * *

 **Author's Note 40: Skydiving**

Yeah, logically, the Ghost Armor people should have attached their grapple lines to the Archangel suits _before_ vaulting out of the airplane, and just dropped in pairs. But my way is cooler so shut up.

I've said it before, I think, but I absolutely love writing the Hunter. He's everything I want in a villain character: he's not a raging idiot, and he has a vibrant personality. The only thing he's lacking is a clear, relatable motive - something that would elevate him out of straight _villain_ territory and into the gray moral miasma of a character who may make wrong choices but is understandable. However, it's not like that makes him the only flat villain I've ever worked with...nor the last one, because I can think of at least Kingmaker(not a VC character) who is ultimately quite shallow once you pare it all down. But there's a place for a villain who's nothing but a straight-up slimebag too, isn't there?

I've always liked Zhang, too. I prefer him to Annette in EW - possibly because Annette is ANNOYING AS FUCK. "Don't send me into any dark corners" "I suppose I do owe you that much" "I'm still learning"...COME ON, girl! You volunteered! Or...did you? I don't care. Either you did, or XCOM enslaved you and you can at least buck up and not be an old woman about it. Meanwhile, Zhang kicks asses, takes names, and gives those names to other people, without any hesitation at all.

You may notice I'm consistently not capitalizing alien race names. The game does - Sectoid, Muton, Faceless, etc - but technically, a species name is not a proper noun. Bear that in mind for your own writing! They're not "Elves" they're "elves". Proper noun is correct if the nation has the same name as the race - "Elvish ships" refers to ships of the elvish nation. But if the nation is called something stupid like "Fellguard" or "Spelderheim" or "France", even if it's a nation of elves, then they're simply "elvish ships". On the same logic: mutons, sectoids, stun lancers. You don't capitalize "human" every time, do you? The one exception is the Elders, but that's for dramatic weight more than anything.

Until next time, _Vigilo Confido_.


	41. Ebb Tide

_Please remember to favorite and follow!_

* * *

 _"There is no shorter road to defeat than by entering a war with inadequate preparation."_

 _~Charles Lindbergh_

* * *

 **Chapter Forty-one: Ebb Tide**

If this wasn't Hell, it had to be the waiting room outside.

"Four meters and change." Cameron Rogers quietly paced that distance, going from one smooth cubicle wall to the other. "No windows. One door, fully sealed." He glared at the offending portal, only distinguishable from the walls by the faint outlines of its shape. "No hinges." His eyes flicked to the ceiling. "Microphones, probably - hello, everyone - and maybe a camera." He made sure to turn in a full circle with middle finger extended, just to make sure any such device caught a look.

 _One light_ , he resumed mentally. _Shielded by metal bars so I can't break the bulb for a cutting blade, or fetch out the filament to pick the lock._ He snorted. _It's an electronic lock, so I'd love to see that._

Other than that, his cell had a toilet, a little sink, and a cot that was more of a table, all things considered. Cameron wasn't bothered by the toilet and he'd slept on worse than the hard ground before in his life, but the sink stymied him. He'd grown up on a farm well away from Advent or any other civilization, but he still hadn't realized how attached he'd grown to _Avenger_ 's showers until he had none.

As far as prisons went, he had to admit this was a good one. They didn't even open the door to give him food: they opened a slot and shoved a tray in, one with some kind of gruel paste in a bowl. It was perhaps enough to keep body and soul together, but it wasn't doing any good for him beyond that.

 _I won't talk_ , Cameron decided, for the umpteenth time. _They're only going to kill me, whether I talk or not_. Likely true, but a heroic death was easier to contemplate in the abstract. If the Assassin or the Hunter showed up outside his cell and offered him freedom in exchange for a moment alone with their psionic hand-glowing thing...Cameron liked to think he'd tell them to fuck themselves, but he couldn't be certain. That shamed him, but it was what it was.

Then there was Liang. If the aliens had caught her too, they hadn't rubbed it in his face, so he hoped she was still out there. He'd never admitted he wasn't working alone, and evidently Advent wasn't certain themselves or they'd have claimed to have his partners in custody whether they did or not. Instead, time went by: first hours, then days, and Cameron heard nothing. He prayed to a God he didn't altogether believe in that the Grenadier had made good her own escape and was reporting to Commander Gallant already.

They gave him a datapad, which he thought was odd of them. Of course it had no network access, but still. It was only when he tried to use it that he realized it was full of Advent propaganda apps and stories, and that was what really drove him away.

Unfortunately, there was nothing else to do but work out, and eventually his body would give in even if he knew better than it what his options were. That made him inexorably wind his way back to the tablet - even if full of lies, they'd at least be something to read and watch.

"Son of a bitch," he muttered, as a video of Speaker Innmann encouraged him to suborn himself to the Elders' grace and bask in their forgiveness. "You sound like a preacher who needs to get laid." He eyed the marks on the Speaker's neck. "You know what? I bet he's-"

 _Fwoom!_

"Huh?" Cameron turned - it wasn't time for lunch yet - and paused when the door turned transparent. That made him jump to his feet - any break in routine was a Very Bad Thing, as far as he could determine - and prepare for the worst in a hurry.

"It's me!" The woman outside waved cheerfully. Cameron stared.

"...the hell do you want?" he finally asked.

"Don't swear at a lady!" the scientist snapped, her high voice filling with an almost scolding note. Cameron took a bit of pride in the black mark around her eye, even if she'd covered it with enough makeup she looked like a streetwalker. Her vibrant eyes flicked up and down, as if she were assessing his condition at a glance. "I've never seen a real terrorist before. I have to say, you're not very impressive. I thought you'd be taller and less...babyish."

"Are you just here to gloat?" Cameron scoffed. "Go away."

"Aww. Am I hurting the baby's feelings?" She giggled, and Cameron wished he'd punched her harder. She might have seen the thought flash up in his eyes, because her laughter abruptly faded. "I guess I shouldn't have expected a criminal to be a gentleman, but you're a real piece of street grime. Hitting a lady?" She clucked her tongue. "I wish they'd tackled you harder, you know that? They went easy on you."

She, Cameron suspected, had never been tackled face-first into permacrete. "Why don't I show you just how it's done, then?"

"What a foul individual." She curled her lip like she'd tasted something sour. "No wonder the Elders want to put you and your kind down."

"My kind? You mean people?" Cameron glared. "You and I aren't any different-"

"Of course we are. One of us is smart enough to be on the right side of this door." She laughed, laughed in her shrill voice with her eyes full of contempt.

"They're killing people-"

"Sucks to be them. I'm not an idiot who couldn't make myself useful." She scoffed while Cameron was still gaping at her. "Well, I've wasted enough time here. I just had to come take another look at you before you go away."

"Away?" Cameron blinked. "What do you mean, away?"

"Oh! They must not have told you yet!" Sappy condescension dripped from her tone. She leaned back on one leg, putting her hands on her hips and smirking. "The Warlock has expressed a personal interest in you, and I put in for your being transferred." She beamed wider as Cameron's heart skipped a beat - it must have shown on his face, because she chuckled then, too. "Well, I'm off. Are you not going to wave?" She turned on her heel, doing so over her shoulder. "Bye-bye!"

* * *

"How's your head?"

"It is functional." Sylvie paused to take a drink. "I worry it will not be tomorrow."

"That's the point of this little excursion." Julie reached over the table to punch her date - not _that_ kind of date, no - on the arm. "No aftereffects from the-"

"Nothing, no." Sylvie glanced across the bar, and Julie's gaze followed hers. "I am the lucky one, I think."

"Yeah..." The redhead coughed when she saw Charlotte, sitting alone with a dark look as she rubbed at her forehead. "She really doesn't look well."

"She was mind controlled by the Warlock. Of course she is unwell."

"Yeah, but..." Julie blew air through her teeth. "Want to cheer her up?"

"I quite enjoy being alone with you." Sylvie went red a moment later. "That came out wrong."

"Did it?" Julie wondered absently, not having noticed anything wrong about it at all. Her attention was still on the blonde. "Does she have any friends?"

"She and Mariah came aboard together."

"But they aren't exactly getting drinks all the time. I don't think they have a lot in common." Julie glanced over at Sylvie, then sighed. "I think she's alone."

"Do you?" The Frenchwoman gave her opposite number another look. "I remember being alone."

"Yeah." Julie's jaw worked. "Only she doesn't have what we did."

"What?"

"We came aboard at the start of something. Central's crew had all fanned out and we were all..." Julie made an odd hand gesture. "Everyone was new. No one had anyone. We sank or swam."

"Ah. And here is Charlotte Moineau, wading into the depths when everyone else is busy playing water polo." Sylvie's purple eyes darkened. "And she neither knows the rules nor has anyone intent to explain them to her."

"That's an image." Julie could picture it quite well. She took another drink. "Hell with it. Let's go."

"Go?" Sylvie blinked...then she understood. "Oh. You mean-"

"Hell yes. Let's make a friend." Julie rose. "I'm going to make a friend, at least. You don't have to-"

"No, no. This is a good thing to do." Sylvie joined her, and both women scooped up their bottles. They started across the bar in silence, picking their way past Aileen Quinn in her drunken stupor, past Johannes Vermuelen in a dark corner with Jiaying Shen, the pair examining his tablet and talking in low voices. They passed Pratal Mox and Elena Dragunova, the former with a drink and the latter with a cigarette, very loudly arguing about something or the other. The more animated they got, the closer they shifted in their seats.

" _Bonjour_ ," Sylvie said, surprising Julie by speaking up before she could. Charlotte blinked, craning her neck to look at the pair.

"Oh. _Bonjour_." She examined Sylvie for a moment. " _Ça va?_ "

" _Bien_." Sylvie paused by the booth. " _Et vous?_ "

" _J'ai été mieux._ " Charlotte shrugged slowly. " _Le Démoniste_."

"Ah." Sylvie nodded sympathetically. " _Pouvon-nous vous rejoindre?_ "

"It's great that we all speak French," Julie observed. "Otherwise I'd be really lost."

"Oh!" Sylvie coughed into her elbow. " _Desolé_ \- I mean, I'm sorry." She gestured to Charlotte. "I merely asked if we could..."

" _Oui_. Yes." Charlotte waved uncaringly. "If you would like."

"Are you doing alright?" Julie asked, taking Sylvie's hand and helping her ease into the booth. Charlotte spared her an odd glance, and the redhead couldn't fathom why: her friend had been knocked out by the same creature that had done his work on the blonde. Couldn't Julie try to take care of her?

"As I told Sylvie, I am...middling." Charlotte blew at her bangs for a moment. "I hear his voice when I am not thinking."

"Yeah, you would." Julie made a sympathetic face. "The psi-energy takes a while to work its way out, and the human brain isn't patterned to easily forget things. We try to make connections and see themes in everything, even things that are random - the tiniest thing brings back the touch, since it's so deep and personal."

"You would know how all this works," Charlotte allowed after a moment. She breathed in, then out, very deeply. "What brings you over here?"

"We just..." Julie shrugged. "It doesn't look like you have friends."

"Not here, no." Her eyes darkened. "Not in Paris either, I don't think: not anymore. I wonder what has become of Henri and Nathan since Evangeline and I..." More darkness. "Not to mention my other friends."

"I didn't mean to bring any of that up." Julie felt bad now. "I'm sorry."

"It is life." With enough fatalistic acceptance of such things the redhead began to wonder which side of the English Channel she _really_ hailed from, Charlotte took a long drink. "What do the Russians say? _Nichevo_ , that's it. It can't be helped."

Silence fell. Julie pushed her bottle back and forth for a moment.

"But." Charlotte visibly perked up. "She would not be the dour one, so neither shall I." She took another drink, this one crisper and more alert. "I have been working to catch up on the years of cultural history I was denied by the aliens. I recently stumbled across an old movie I thought was quite charming, for all its oddities and perplexities."

"Right." Julie accepted the topic change as easily as she could, and Sylvie made an interrogative noise. "Which one?"

"It was a Robin Hood movie, but it was quite farcical..."

* * *

Jane's feet were cold. They were cold before the rest of her, and they were cold before they even came down on the frigid metal planking in Officer's Country. The brunette fought not to swear, nearly biting her tongue as her toes tried to stick to the deck.

"Ow...ow...ow... _fuck_...ow..." It all came out under her breath. She picked her way with care over bolt patterns and the little gaps and dips in the floor that gave _Avenger_ her...her _personality_ , that was the positive word. She felt like she was leaving layers of skin behind with each step, but...

The chill set in on her shoulders and her arms next, in force. Jane pulled her insufficient outfit a little tighter about herself: the ship was in flight over Canada at the moment, flying off to check some rumor about a desiccated UFO corpse near Alaska. Jane didn't know much about Canada or Alaska beyond the basics, but she hadn't been _this_ cold since their tour in Siberia, and that was really all she needed to decide she didn't like it here either.

The steady _thrum_ of the engines hung in the stillness around her. Metal creaked too, and various items pinned to the wall or sitting on shelves rattled with light turbulence. Jane felt the vibration run up through her legs - her cold legs, her freshly-shaved legs, and how often did _that_ happen? - as she made her picking journey through the landmines of ice. She longed to abort, flip a U, and make right back to the shower she'd taken so sinfully long in trying not to carve her calves to ribbons.

 _I hope I don't get an earful from the supply division about the hot water_ , she thought, a tad forcefully. _Our purification system works just fine, and it's not like there's no snow around here. If they try to talk down to me for my measly little usage_...

Then she turned the last corner...and she froze.

"Captain?" That throaty voice rang from the darkness, at least a little undone compared to usual. Jane's eyes flicked up and down, taking in the lithe form that had to be... _had_ to be...

"...Sergeant." She left it there, and her gaze turned from Dragunova to the man lingering at her side. "...Sergeant."

"Captain." There was no mistaking Mox's voice. Jane spent a moment looking from one to the other, then about them at the darkness of the corridor.

"We were just-"

"Sergeant." Jane cleared her throat, surprised Dragunova had even attempted to try and spin her. It wasn't her style, was it? Jane had honestly suspected a threat more than anything. "If it's...if it's all the same to you, Sergeant, I think I'd rather you didn't see me either."

"Yes, I can see how this might be the case." Oh, there was that sarcastic assholery. Dragunova tugged on Mox's shoulder. "Come on."

"You will freeze," Mox protested, eyeing Jane. "It is cold-"

"Yeah, I've figured that out, thanks." Jane tossed her head. "Find another dark passageway and let's none of us admit we saw each other if anyone asks."

"Deal." Dragunova took Mox's hand now. "Come on, Pratal."

Off they went, the Reaper with silent footsteps and the Skirmisher's not far above. Jane - foolishly, really, since they had to know where she was going, neither being idiots - waited until they'd rounded the far corner to take another step.

"Ow," she snapped, as she finally lifted her foot from the cold. She covered her mouth with her free hand, wincing as she started her walking torture again. " _Shit_."

Then she was at the door. She hit the access button and it slid open noiselessly.

"Who's there?"

"The Captain." There being only one of those, that served as well as her name. Jane entered, leaving the faint landing lights stretched through the corridors behind to make the transition to total darkness. Well, not _total_ \- none of _Avenger_ 's crew quarters had actual windows, but humans didn't like sleeping in tombs. Most humans. Cameras and displays combined to give the _illusion_ of a window spread over the far wall, showing clouds peacefully floating by and the moon shining down from overhead, even though Jane knew the only thing she'd find through that particular wall was Shen's workshop space.

"The Captain, huh?" He shifted in his bed, and Jane picked her way inside, biting down her curses. She deliberately shut the door behind her. "What's got you here?"

"Team-building exercise." Jane perched on the edge of the bed, pulling her outerwear around her a bit more. "It's dark and it's lonely."

"I know what you mean." Jane was sure he did. In David's voice, she heard the faint echoes of the times he'd spoken of his dead friends in Australia - just as she struggled with thoughts of her own. James and his smile, Obsidian the cat lover...Irina the paranoiac, but Irina the team mother hen...

"Do you ever have that feeling," she began under her breath, "like something's...something's about to happen? Something serious, and it's going to happen any time now...but you don't know what?"

"Yeah." He was silent for a minute. "We're on borrowed time."

"Don't I know it?"

"Mordecai and Mox and Mariah aside, we've done well recently." That was quiet worry undercutting his cute Steve Irwin accent. "The bill always comes due in the end. If we do well for a spell..."

Jane hissed through her teeth, wishing she had a damn good counterargument. She cleared her throat instead. "I didn't mean to start anything like this."

"What did you mean to start?" David shifted again, and Jane felt his presence behind her. "I'm guessing you..." His hands found her, and he veered off into silence again.

"Yes?" Now Jane was hard-put not to purr: so hard-put she didn't bother.

"Are you...are you wearing _anything_ under that towel-"

Jane took the plunge, and she took the towel too, slipping it from around her shoulders. She tossed it to the floor, shivering as more goosebumps ran up from her knees and down from her shoulders.

"Am I?" she whispered. David's hands moved experimentally.

"... _Jesus_ ," he finally muttered. "And you-"

"I _shaved_ ," Jane agreed, and now there was a predatory note in her voice. "I shaved for _you_ , boy."

"I suppose I'll have to make it worth the trouble."

"That would be a good idea," she agreed. David's hands locked around her waist, and Jane let out a sigh as he pulled her backward into the mattress' embrace. "That would be a _very_ good idea."

* * *

"Oh, my..." Fatima Tariq dabbed at her eyes with the one hand that worked. Her bandaged-up right hand, set and splinted and all but amputated, propped up the tablet and her movie. She sniffed, wiping a little more with every progressive line of dialogue. "This part always just..."

"For the love of God." Shaojie Zhang had agreed to watch a movie with her while she recuperated. That agreement did not include any provisions about sarcastic-ass commentary. "That door is _plenty_ big enough for both of them."

"But," Fatima protested, sniffing and wiping her eyes again, "he's sacrificing himself for the woman he loves-"

" _That door_ ," Zhang repeated, glaring at the tablet screen like he could slap Jack and Rose alike, "is _plenty_ big enough for _both_ -"

"Vhat do ve have heere?"

"What?" Fatima jumped - remembering to hit the pause button just in time - and looked up as three figures stormed into the infirmary. Trailing at the flanks were two men in medical jackets, heads down as they relentlessly typed notes on their datapads. Before Fatima could focus on them, though, she had to stare at the tall, aggressive brunette storming past Zhang with a martial _thump_ in the stride of her heavy boots.

" _Guten morgen!_ " she cried, accent thick and dripping and combining with the heavy medical mask covering her nose and mouth to make her almost incomprehensible. All Fatima could see of her were her eyes: blue and sparkling. "It is me, _Doktah Vahlen_ , heere to check uhp on your...how you say? _Recovery_."

"Wait-"

"Hmmm, yes, zis is very much bad," said the doctor, taking Fatima's wounded wrist in her hands. "Ve vill have to operate on ze quick to counteract ze inevitable nerve damage. Unt zis is a perfect opportunity! Aftah all, is easier to work when ze damage has been done already!"

"Damage-"

"Ve can fix worst of damage by adding ze nerve cords from a berzerker," she decided. Her assistants' heads went up and down, and their typing redoubled. "Ve vill amputate ze entire arm unt replace, just to be on safe side. Do ze same vit ze othah."

"Hold on just a-"

"Unt take ze stabilizer jets from an archon!" the doctor cried. "Ve vill insert zem strategically into ze subject's anus for flight capability vitout un Archangel suit-"

"No!" Fatima pulled her hand back. "I don't want any-"

"She is hurt!" the doctor said quickly. "She does not know vhat she says!" She reached out like lightning and smacked Fatima's forehead. "See? She has head injury! Konkussion! Ve must sedate ze patient immediately unt begin ze operation!"

Fatima burst out laughing. She could hardly see for a long moment, and her lungs nearly burst as she howled out a gale of mirth. She clutched her chest...and the moment she thought she had it all under control, she had to crack up again when "Doctor Vahlen" held up a magnifying glass to examine the inside of her mouth.

"Ve can replace ze tongue vit one from a viper if it vould please her boyfriend-"

"Annette, you psychotic nutball!" Fatima got herself under control long enough to give the Frenchwoman an arm-punch.

"Made you laugh!" she cried, abandoning the accent. "Didn't I? Didn't I, Fatima?"

"You knew!" Fatima accused. She gave Zhang a hard glare, and the Heavy turned his eyes up to study the ceiling.

"Knew what?"

"That's why you sat down with me to watch the movie!" Fatima glared at Annette's two grinning assistants. "I expected this crap from you, Matt, but... _Said_?"

"She said you'd laugh." Fatima's brother grinned ear to ear. "You _certainly_ did."

"You're all jerks," the Assault declared. She leaned back in her chair, beaming. "You're the best jerks I've ever known."

"I think she likes us," Annette observed. "You can tell she's the youngest."

"I hardly think thirty-eight counts as _young_ -"

"Pah!" Zhang gave her a shove on the shoulder. "Go cry in a mirror, Tariq. You don't know what old means."

Annette scoffed. "Yeah, you still get the monthly pains-"

"And _you_..." Fatima broke off. "Doctor Vahlen!"

" _Ja!_ " Annette cried, stiffening back up. Fatima raised her good hand, but before she could speak, the medic rolled on. "Zer is fah more ve can do! Ze arms of a berzerker unt ze archon jets in ze bum, unt ze tongue of a viper, _ja_ , but so much more! A revolutionary gene therapy!"

" _Annette_ ," Zhang started. Fatima tried to point, but the Frenchwoman was having too much fun to stop.

"Ve have gatekeepers in ze cold storage!" Annette cupped one hand and held it up to her left breast. " _Un_ gatekeeper-" her other hand and other breast "- _deux_ gatekeepers. None of ze boys vill be able to take zeir eyes off you!" She cackled, high and evil. "Zis is ze pinnacle of _mein_ German super-science-"

"First correction: I am _Swiss_."

Annette froze, one finger jammed in the air, probably with her mouth open under the gauze mask. Fatima saw her swallow before she, finger still upraised, rotated on the balls of her feet to stare into the doorway.

"...Doctor," Annette finally managed, after a minute's worth of staring. Said and Matt traded glances, while Zhang grunted and dropped his head into his hands.

"Secondly." Moria Vahlen's lip curled. "Archon jets in her _rear_ , Annette?" Her beaming smile was perhaps more frightening than her impersonator's. "They would point _backwards_ , not _down_. We'd have to stick them in her heels, or straight up in between."

* * *

" _Hello, Commander_."

"Oh, hi Mark." Gallant steeped his fingers, sighing when Shadow Man didn't react. "What's the matter? Never...never seen it?"

" _I have looked into the matter you sent for my examination_." He didn't have time for small talk. Gallant wondered how long it took to set up these secure communications - and what would happen if that process was bypassed, for whatever reason.

"Yeah, so did Volk and Betos. They have nothing for me."

" _I am afraid I have very little, but I do have something_."

"Really?" Gallant leaned forward now. He sucked in the chilly air in his office, and he fought not to pick that pen up and start fiddling again. "Like?"

" _The Ruler creatures you describe found their way to Advent_ ," Shadow Man started, which was not really what Gallant cared about. " _They hunted down concentrations of the others among their kinds, and though they lack the other aliens' control chips, they are now fully under the Elders' sway. They serve via direct mind control - to each Ruler, one Elder is assigned. It seems like they are testing their capabilities at manipulating organic bodies directly, though I do not fully understand the need._ "

"We'll deal with it." Gallant breathed out. "Nothing on Doctor Vahlen?"

" _Her name appears in several Advent files - this I knew before Central Officer Bradford ever contacted me to tell of your rescue - but I cannot determine in what exact context her name is used. It appears she has made a nuisance of herself for the last twenty years, in one form or another_."

"Do better," Gallant ordered, a little testier. "I knew Vahlen wouldn't go out gently. Shaojie Zhang and Annette Durand saved a team of mine in India not long ago, and we found Vahlen's base. I can't believe it's coincidental. Somehow, they're working together, and I need to know how to get in contact with them to join our forces and unite our capabilities."

" _I do not believe this is your sole motivation, Commander_."

"If it's true, then the other side benefits of the arrangement are just cherries on top." Gallant glared at the camera. "Give me something I can work with."

Silence. Shadow Man let out a sigh.

" _I believe Doctor Vahlen has gone underground in a secondary XCOM Project facility. Do you remember the Interceptor Stations?_ "

"Of course." Gallant frowned. "Mindanao, Kansas, Amazon, Congo, and Poland."

" _Each one housed the necessary equipment for establishing a new base in the event the aliens had destroyed Headquarters_ ," Shadow Man agreed. " _Some of the equipment you recovered from the Southeast Asian facility, to my eyes, bears striking resemblance to these backups we placed around the world. It is my suspicion that Doctor Vahlen raided these bases to establish her initial stockpile of material - recruiting their personnel in the process - and then set one up as a fallback base in case her research station and genetics lab was discovered before she completed her plans. Whatever these plans may have been_."

"That's...like her." A backup plan for breakfast...

" _I know Zhang and his crew have been dangerous threats to Advent for a long time_ ," Shadow Man finished. " _By sending envoys to the old Interceptor Stations, you may yet find Doctor Vahlen and we may yet strike some kind of accord_."

"I suppose it's worth a look." Gallant full-well knew he'd be sending messengers before the day was out, but he had to keep up the appearance of not being manic. Judging from Shadow Man's little scoff, he knew what was what just as well as the old soldier himself did.

" _I would advise you to make haste, but there is another matter that requires your attention first_."

"Is there?" Gallant frowned. "Another Haven?"

" _No, Commander._ " Shadow Man hit a button on his terminal, and Gallant's machine hummed. " _I have procured the target coordinates for another facility dedicated to work on the Avatar Project._ "

* * *

 **Author's Note 41: Stupid Jetpack Vahlen**

Annette's impersonation is not all that far off the mark, is it?

One thing in terms of gameplay that I'm not fully clear on is the Avatar Project facilities themselves. Are the aliens building them as the game goes on? Are the ones on the map the ONLY ones in the world? Or are you finding ones that already exist, that you simply don't know are there to begin with? Is it a mix of the two? I prefer the _finding_ explanation, but most of the flavor text in the game supports the _building_ idea. It confuses me, and I don't like being confused. My mind automatically tries to untangle logical knots.

We're moving right along now. If I had to assign a "Season Two Midfinale" then the next four chapters have to qualify. I hope you enjoy them!

Until next time, _Vigilo Confido_.


	42. Dark Tower

_Please remember to favorite and follow!_

* * *

 _"Older men declare war. But it is the youth that must fight and die."_

 _~Herbert Hoover_

* * *

 **Chapter Forty-two: Dark Tower**

 _Boom!_

It wasn't harsh. It wasn't a detonation that rang his world, no. It was...it was gentle, rolling, sweeping over his ears like a caress. It went on and on impossibly long, like a magazine slowly cooking off in parts, but yet...

He opened his eyes.

Haze. There was haze everywhere, tinting and filling the world and twisting up his perception until everything looked underwater. That booming rang in his ears, and the earth swayed under his...under his...not under his feet, no. His feet dangled, and they dangled _in_...

Edward Gallant sat on a surfboard, basking in the Los Angeles sun.

"I..." He couldn't help it. The world came back in, flowing forth and fro, and all he could see were the blue-green shades of the Pacific, wrapping him up. The thunder was the waves, tearing up and coming down out toward the deep, and Gallant's breath caught as he saw the revelers on their boards, riding the surge. Laughter and seagull cries mixed with the water's noise, and the faint humming of car engines. The ocean was warm, enveloping his legs and-

"Legs!" Gallant caught one of his in both hands. His heart - his heart that beat, his heart that didn't ache or thunder or burn or sear - nearly skipped a beat when he felt no scars, no exit or entry wounds, and no tell-tale signs of the metal reinforcement that had been his only prayer of standing up like a man again. He looked down at his chest, and instead of the forgettable wrinkles he'd succumbed to after his ruination, he saw powerful muscles up and down.

 _Splash_.

Gallant's head turned. Sedately cruising up on the tide came another surfer, her board violet enough it almost looked red, to contrast his sky blue. She was lithe but tall, graceful and elegant...her indigo bikini showed off everything it needed to, but the way her head tilted gave the impression of someone just a little...out of reach. Gallant could almost reach out and touch her, but somehow, she'd always remain an inch from his fingers. Her hair was vibrant gold and flowed down almost to the small of her back, perfectly arranged in a smooth cascade. She had no old scars, no little stretch marks, no beauty spots, as if she'd simply emerged from the ocean as Aphrodite without a single trial to leave its imprint on her skin.

And her eyes were every bit as purple as her board and clothes.

"Welcome back," she said with a lily-white smile, in a lovely, ethereal voice like bird song. "But I think you should wake up now...Commander."

"Commander?"

"Huh?" Edward Gallant twitched. He shook his head drowsily, lifting it from the back of his chair.

"We're readying the strike team for the facility raid." Bradford reached out to put a hand on Gallant's shoulder. "You alright, sir?"

"Yeah. Must have..." Gallant coughed. "Must have dozed off." For a moment, the blonde appeared in his mind again, curvaceous and appealing and eyeing him like she could see his innermost thoughts. "Must have taken my meds before I did, too. Had an acid trip of a dream. Thought I was surfing off LA again."

"Ah. I know those dreams." Bradford picked up Gallant's cane from where it lay on the carpet. "Sometimes, I dream I'm back in Kansas, reliving my five minutes of college football fame. And the booze after!"

"Yeah." Gallant didn't think he would have dropped his cane no matter how drugged-up he was when he dozed off, but he supposed _Avenger_ could have bucked and it might have flown. "I had a game like that, but it was basketball. The _girls_ after!"

"There was this one," Bradford began, as he helped Gallant stand and keep himself that way when _Avenger_ bucked through a spot of turbulence. "Brunette, very shy girl. _Consuela_ , I think was her name-"

"You have a type, John." Gallant started for the door. Bradford scoffed.

"What makes you say-"

"I've looked at Mariah for more than two minutes." Gallant spared the XO a little grin. "If her mother was from anywhere north of Tijuana, I'd be shocked."

"Doesn't look much like me at all, does she?" Bradford agreed easily. So easily, Gallant didn't like it for beans. Central cleared his throat as they came into the passageway. "Doesn't act much like me either."

"The way she looks at people. She's got your mind, John." Was he going where Gallant was starting to suspect he was?

"Maybe." Whether he was or not, he had other places to go first. "I've taken the liberty of calling up the barracks. Have you made your choices on personnel selection?"

"Damn straight." Gallant hit the elevator and stormed right in, forcing Kipler and Vermuelen to shift to the sides. The doctor said something polite for greeting, so Gallant nodded to him. "You know I always do."

"You planning on sending her out there?"

"Her? Who's-" Stupid question. Gallant did a double-take as Bradford filtered in beside him. "As a matter of fact, maybe I was."

"I don't think that's a good idea, Commander."

Gallant eyed Bradford very intently, until the elevator doors slid closed. His jaw worked.

Then he hit the _stop lift_ button, and his eyes turned to Kipler and Vermuelen.

"You aren't here," he told them, very firmly. "None of this happened."

"As you direct, Commander." Kipler nodded agreeably, then he raised his tablet and buried his nose in it. Vermuelen politely turned his gaze to the ceiling.

"Commander, it's not-"

"John, we talked about this when she signed on." Gallant glared up at his XO. "She is a soldier like any other, and I won't see her sheltered for nepotistic reasons. No, I don't want her dead and you're within your rights to worry about her, but at the end of the day, she volunteered to fight. If it were your father in your place and you in hers, you wouldn't want the Admiral holding you back." Yeah, Gallant did his research about the personnel he was assigned for his top-secret G-man projects. Rather, Penny had done the research, and she'd told Gallant everything about the ace pilot from a Navy family long before the fall of the original base.

"Sir, that has nothing to do with anything." Bradford shifted his weight. "She takes her risks and that's on her. She did volunteer."

"Then what the hell _is_ it?" Gallant demanded. "Give me one good reason _not_ to send her on this op, Central, and give it to me for tactical reasons rather than personal."

Silence. Bradford's turn to work his jaw.

"...she'll fuck it up, sir." Blunt, to the point, and without a trace of nuance or retreat. "She'll either blow someone up like she did with Mox, or she'll get target fixation and let someone else get killed like in Syria."

"She did well enough in Yonkers." Gallant didn't turn to Kipler for support: as far as he was concerned, the scientist wasn't in the elevator, and thankfully he was wise enough to realize that.

"I've heard some things." Bradford's eyes glittered with something very dark.

"Kelly didn't report anything. No one did."

"Kelly lacks objectivity as an officer. She's letting her personal opinions cloud her judgment of Mariah's utility to the Resistance." Gallant idly wondered if that was the muton calling the chryssalid ugly. "I've got my suspicions and I've heard some people talking. Mariah's not cut out to be a soldier, and irregardless of the risks to her in person, if you send her out again she's liable to blow the entire mission up around our ears."

Gallant tapped his cane on the deck. "She's made mistakes, but no more than-"

"She nearly killed Mox," Bradford repeated stubbornly. "You want to see what happens when Kelly rounds a corner and Mariah, in her invulnerable stupidity, thinks she's a stun lancer?"

Gallant didn't wince, but not for lack of desire. He had more faith in the kid than his XO appeared to, but the scenario hardly struck him as far-fetched.

"She won't get better without the opportunity."

"How much are her opportunities going to cost those around her?" Bradford crossed his arms. "Sir, if I'd had my way-"

"I know. You'd have taken her gun after Syria." Gallant didn't like this situation, and he didn't like it any better the longer he was stuck here in the elevator. What would Penny say? She'd always been able to talk John off of ledges, though the fact that she was a slender Hispanic brunette herself might have weighed the scales a bit. "We don't have many Rangers. And we don't have many soldiers, period. I'm not inclined to turn someone who's undeniably brave away."

"Edward, she's going to cause something worse if we don't get a handle on her," Bradford insisted. "I feel it in my bones."

Edward Gallant was, at the end of the day, a Senator's son as much as he was a product of West Point. In an instant, he was weighing the political capital cost of allowing even his number-two man to influence his thinking - especially in front of an audience. He had no illusions that before the day was out, the whispers about this conversation would be flying through the passageways, whatever Kipler and Vermuelen had promised.

But...

"I'm not changing my mind. Mariah's staying on the combat roster - at least until you can find me someone qualified to replace her."

"I'm sure Shen can tape a gun to a GREMLIN and it won't cause as much friendly fire."

"Don't be a sarcastic piece of shit anywhere on my ship," Gallant ordered, giving Bradford a sharp rap on the ankle with the tip of his cane. He huffed a moment later, turning back to the control panel. "Alright. We'll split the difference, at least until I get Mariah some more training time with Kelly and Dragunova. She's still on the combat roster - _that_ is non-negotiable - but I'll pull her from this op."

"Yes, sir," said Bradford, for all the world as if it had been Gallant's command all along. The Commander decided he should monitor that tendency: it seemed like a handy way for his XO to duck responsibility if necessary.

Gallant hit the stop button again, and the elevator lurched into motion. "But I want something from you, too."

"Sir?"

"Dragunova and Kelly aren't the only ones who are going to be working with Mariah." Gallant braced on his cane as the lift came to a bumping halt. "If you're so concerned about her capabilities that you're making me pull her off the active ledger, it's your responsibility to correct the situation."

"Sir!" From his sharp intake of breath and the spark in Bradford's eyes, Gallant might have ordered him to commit harakiri. "Commander-"

"I suggest you apply yourself with the same alacrity you showed when you created this problem." Then Gallant's cane came down hard, and he stormed out of the elevator and toward the bridge, moving so quickly even his healthy underling had trouble keeping up.

* * *

"This has to be the strangest pistol I've ever seen."

"It looks like something out of a history class," Nui Tashiro agreed. She reached over into Meysam's lap, and he let her take the odd weapon. The rookie turned it over several ways for a long minute. "Will it even shoot?"

"Let's not test it inside the dropship," Lieutenant Quinn urged. Meysam reclaimed his gun with a dry snort.

"Because we're all fresh with no prior experience." He glanced to the gauss rifle stashed by his side. "Have to admit, that's a new one."

"Not a lot of advanced weapons in the havens," Kang agreed mournfully. The trio had been deployed together, with Quinn in command and that...odd pairing of Skirmisher and Reaper to shepherd the lot. Right now, Mox and Dragunova were silent, the former testing his ionic ripjack while the latter examined her helmet, as if checking its visual settings.

"It'll go through the aliens almost as fast as my little baby here." Quinn held up that crazy crossbow of hers, and her beaming smile stretched up to illuminate her eyes as easily as the rest of her face. "Might leave some bigger pieces behind, but they'll be just as dead."

"Hopefully."

" _Coming up on the drop site. We're in full concealment_." Firebrand never sounded particularly animated about anything. It was like knowing that she could build a new Skyranger from scratch immunized her to the possibility that danger might befall her pride and joy. Meysam had never understood mechanics very well.

"Alright." Quinn rose, and Meysam did the same. Kang and Nui flanked him, neither nervous as fresh-faced kids but neither entirely calm, either. Only Mox and Dragunova looked anything near steady. Quinn blew air through her teeth. "We don't have a lot of intel on this place. What we do know is that it's a facility critical to the Avatar Project, and that's enough to know we've got to take it down. Probably a standard defensive complement: that's going to mean mutons, vipers, soldiers, and at least one codex for communication."

" _Opening drop bay_." Firebrand proved a woman of her word a moment later. " _Deploy in fifteen seconds_." The lines started to descend.

"Watch each others' backs," Aileen encouraged, which fell under the heading of Obvious Advice. "Don't screw up."

"No promises." Nui had probably meant it to lighten the mood, but it was just as well she kept her voice down. It didn't land as well as she'd no doubt hoped.

"What _is_ that?" Meysam wondered, blinking as he saw the ground at night. The Mexican desert was not so dissimilar to his home at first glance, but the fauna... "It's glowing purple and blue."

"Must be some kind of alien plants," Quinn mused.

"They come from the same world as the Elders," Mox confirmed. "My people have names for them, but I have no interest in a botany lesson at this time. They flourish in proximity to the psionic energy radiated from high-level Advent equipment."

" _Fascinating_ ," Tygan breathed through the com. " _Perhaps these plants excrete said energy as well...perhaps we can use clippings for our own purposes somehow._ "

" _Menace,_ " said the Commander, " _I don't care if you do or don't bring clippings of silverthorn and athelas back with you. I want that goddamn black spot on my planet turned into a literal black spot on my planet_."

"You sent the right people," Quinn replied. She reached out and claimed her line. "Take no prisoners, show no mercy - kill anything that moves."

"Looking forward to it." Meysam slung his rifle, checked the Shadowkeeper, then queued up before Nui and Kang but after Dragunova and Mox. Quinn waited as the Skyranger twitched and slowed, turning almost a full circle and coming to rest over a gas station rooftop-

"Go!" cried the Irishwoman.

" _Get out and move fast_ ," Firebrand encouraged in almost the same breath. " _Meter will be running, so don't go chasing butterflies down there!_ "

"What _is_ that woman?" Meysam wondered, as the three veterans jumped. "Under the mask, I mean."

"A _hell_ of a woman, probably," was Kang's response. "I'm picturing a redhead." That was all he had time to say before it was Meysam's turn to drop, and his friends after him.

He distinctly heard the pilot snickering at them over his com.

* * *

Cameron Rogers sat in silence.

The man on his left? A trooper. The woman on his right? Stun lancer, so yay. His hands were cuffed - in front of him, oddly, but cuffed nonetheless. He sat on a utilitarian seat, strapped in place with a belt around his waist, and he glared hard at the spot between his shoes.

It was stupid. It was _stupid_ , all of it! There had been no call for the scientist - what _was_ her name, anyway? - to recognize him. Did she have a photographic memory after all? Or was she just hyper-observant and addicted to Advent wanted posters? For that matter, was there even a wanted poster for him anywhere around here?

And the Warlock on top of all that...

" _Call a taxi,_ " someone said, as she clambered into the decidedly-not-a-taxi. Cameron spared her a quick glance, but she was only a red-armored officer: not so different from the pair of warriors flanking him. She took up position by the firing steps in the center of the compartment, though she didn't clamber up to occupy the mag-cannon fixed to the top of the box.

A box it was, too: made of alloys alien and terrestrial, reinforced and stiffened to withstand the fire of even new magnetic-based weapons. It had wheels too, because it was an armored personnel carrier, and unless Cameron much missed his guess, its next stop was right in Warlock Town.

The engine roared to life. Cameron kept his head down, but he counted the soldiers in the compartment with him. In addition to the officer, the driver, and his two guards, there were three troopers easing into positions on the low benches around the APC's edges. Too many to overpower, even if he had anywhere to go. Cameron knew grinding his teeth was bad for them, but he couldn't help it. Now what?

They lurched into motion. Cameron tried to compensate as the rumbling next-best-thing-to-a-tank pulled out across the Defense Ministry's yard, joining up with a pair of escort cars he could see through the firing slits left, right, and rear. They were red and white, somehow clean and dangerous at the same time. There seemed to be two or three soldiers in each.

"I'm not really worth all this," Cameron objected. One of his handlers glared.

" _Mor balaten_ ," he hissed, rapping his fingers on the handle of his pistol. Cameron had no trouble inferring the command, and he obeyed.

They pulled out into Richmond's streets, no less congested for Advent's arrival than they had ever been. The cars lit up rooftop lights, and traffic gave way as the convoy pressed on. Cameron's heart thundered as he wondered how long the ride would be. He wondered a bit about what would await at the other end of it, but he quickly decided reality would arrive soon enough that speculation was just another layer of self-inflicted torment. He turned to watch the roads instead, eyes lingering on old buildings and monuments as they went by.

Another car peeled out from the throng, taking up position close on the heels of the final car. Cameron eyed it, from orange paint to tinted glass to the open sun roof, and he wondered if it was a particularly unsubtle hidden trail. No matter how he tried to think about something else, his eyes flicked back to the figure behind the wheel. Making out details through those dark windows was a challenge, but Cameron gave it a go anyway.

" _Butts?_ " wondered the officer. Her gaze went the same way for a long moment. She reached up for a handhold, and Cameron fancied he could hear the wheels grinding together in her head.

Then Cameron saw the orange over the driver's mouth, and he sucked in breath.

The first grenade flew through the sunroof, and it came down in the trailing car. It went right under the hood and into the engine, and the muffled _bang_ sent smoke and parts flying in all directions. The vehicle swerved harshly, and the orange car smashed into it hard from the flank, knocking it clear off the road and into a toll exit.

Cameron lunged.

" _Do not sling that cone-_ " The soldier on his left made it no further before Cameron belted him with both fists. The alien-lover crumpled, eyes glazed over, and Cameron whipped his cuffs around as the lancer lunged. She drew her baton in a flash, striking for his head with a wild yell-

Cameron interspersed his cuffs between the baton and the wall, and her blow cut him free.

" _Donut!_ " The officer drew her sidearm while Cameron slammed the lancer's head into the APC's wall, and then he had to lunge before she could put a shot in him. Two of soldier friends jumped into the fray too, and the driver shouted wildly, presumably ordering the third up to the machinegun.

Then Da-Xia Liang fired her _second_ grenade, and the APC bucked as it detonated.

* * *

The first warning the soldier ever got was the sudden whisper of wind in the grass. He'd just had time to figure out it wasn't wind when the stiletto came down at the base of his neck between the vertebrae, neatly severing them with just a plunge and a twitch. Yellow blood sprayed as he went down, already dead before his head hit the dirt.

Someone else might have quipped, when the next two soldiers turned. They were fast, at least, snapping their guns around without waiting for more information.

Unfortunately for them, Elena Dragunova was fast, and she'd already thrown her knife by the time the patrol's leader made it around. The blade dug into his shoulder, and Elena yanked the gun from his hands brutally. She didn't have time to use it - time or the desire to give herself a lethal shock from the weapon's in-built security system - but she tossed it as far away as she could and vaulted on the next soldier in a heartbeat.

" _Balaten!_ " he cried, as her fists bore into him. He stumbled, gun falling, and Elena kicked it away. She ripped off his cracked helmet, used it as a club atop his head, and then discarded it when the soldier, in desperation, grabbed at the front of her coat. Elena seized his arm, twisting hard and flinging the man to his knees. Arm still caught up in her grip, she pulled and dropped her weight, and-

 _Crack!_

" _Eat pizza!_ " ordered the last soldier, bringing his recovered gun up. Elena gave him a sidelong look, raising one eyebrow he couldn't see beneath her mask.

 _Squish!_ Something metal drove into the back of the soldier's head, and two blades drove out through his helmet's eyes. He hung limply for a moment while his body grappled with the sudden loss of information from the brain.

"Took your time," Elena observed, drawing her temnotic rifle and reclaiming her stiletto. The body fell a moment later.

"My apologies. I hadn't realized how helpless you are without me." Just two months ago, Pratal Mox saying anything like that would have started a fight. Now, Elena actually found herself fighting a grin as she retook the point position. Life was a funny thing, once you pared it all down.

Funnier yet, she couldn't remember the last person who'd made her smile.

"Alright, lovebirds." Aileen hesitated when Outrider made sure to glare over her shoulder. The Specialist coughed, then glanced to Meysam, Nui, and Kang for support. Wisely, none of them wanted to incur the wrath of a Reaper. The blonde coughed, then waved. "Just do your scout thing."

Elena did, hurrying to boost herself over the fence ringing the facility grounds. She didn't like simply jumping through the glowing fields atop said fences, but they didn't seem to trigger any alarms, which struck her as foolish. She'd certainly have put motion sensors on _her_ fences if she'd been a conquering overlord. Was that too expensive, either on funds or resources? What did Advent need money for? Elena was hard-pressed to think of a logical reason for an alien resource shortage either. But it had to be something along those lines, because chalking something up to the enemy merely being stupid had been the death of too many good Reapers she hadn't had the chance to get to know as well as she wished.

Mox followed close behind her, but not so close as to blow her concealment. He had an almost - perhaps more than _almost_ \- instinctual sense for war, and without being told, he occupied the right positions to cover Elena's advance, moving at the exact instants she would have waved him up. With less subtlety came the parade after him - Elena supposed civilians would have thought XCOM's recruits quiet, but she winced every time they tried to move at anything faster than a crawl. Only Liang had ever shown any real aptitude for light-footed running.

Then the grass was behind, and another row of fences announced the beginning of the yard. Elena spared a glance up at the imposing block of black with Advent sigils - so much like the black site in Switzerland that it hurt - but then returned her attention where it belonged. Here the yard was smaller, with no rail line running through. She hoped there were no captives inside either, as there was no easy way to pull them to safety as things stood.

"Turret," Elena warned, as she made out one of them mounted over the main entrance. "I have my claymore."

" _Leave it_ ," Gallant ordered. " _One of the rookies can handle it. They've got grenades for more than practical jokes_."

"Let's hope." Elena's faith in rookies was no greater than most veterans'. She rose, hurrying over to the door. "I'll push inside with Mox. We'll lay the charges and-"

She never finished the sentence, because the instant before her hand reached it, the door hissed open. Elena reached up for her knife, hoping to put down the soldiers before-

 _Roar!_

"Oh, shit," Elena whispered, as she came face-to-face with the Berserker Queen.

* * *

"No!" Gallant cried. His cane's handle didn't feel very comfortable at all, even if it didn't break under the sudden pressure of his vice-grip. "No, no, we can't-"

"Menace, this is the shot we've been waiting for!" Bradford thought faster on his feet. " _Take that thing down!_ "

" _Engaging!_ " Aileen Quinn reported, and the holodisplay lit up with fire and flashing lights. Gallant hissed through his teeth as Outrider ducked and wove, avoiding strikes that should have crunched her like a bug. She vaulted out of the way as Mox opened fire, and his stream of light rounds tore the beast's attention off her long enough for her to disappear into the shadows. Gallant let out a sigh of relief.

"Keep the fight focused on it," he ordered, trying to loosen his deathgrip and discovering it was impossible. "I want that creature brought down. Don't do anything to draw any more attention to yourselves."

"I should be down there." There might be many things wrong with her basic common sense, but nothing at all was screwy about Jane Kelly's courage. She clutched the bridge rail with knuckles as white as Gallant's own, and her brown eyes burned with miserable fire. "That should be me she's swinging at, not Pratal-"

"Shut up or get out." Gallant wasn't normally that short with anyone any more, but he had no patience for crap at that moment. Ignoring the death glare his senior field operative delivered in response, he flicked his eyes back to the holodisplay. Thankfully, someone other than him was around to handle Kelly with kid gloves, and Gallant spent a moment thanking God for David White and Julie Richardson as the pair tried to ease the Irishwoman down from the ledge of Doing Stupid Things.

"Looks like the garrison is coming around," Kipler warned, from down in the bay at Tygan's side. He grimaced as he read off his display. "I see mobilization from the soldier barracks and the psi-signature of at least one codex in motion."

"Good. The more, the merrier." Gallant reached for the display, pulling up data on everything he could find as he hunted for the loose threads his soldiers couldn't see from the ground level. "Bring them all, I say. Get this mess over with-"

" _We meet again, Commander. Have you made the most of the interlude, as I have?_ "

Dead silence. Even Bradford hesitated, while the display lit up like a Fourth of July show.

"...Menace." It fell to Gallant to break the spell. "Menace, you've got the Assassin incoming."

* * *

 **Author's Note 42: Reaper OP, Plz Nerf**

There is literally no logical reason whatsoever that the Reaper's detection circle is so freaking tiny. None at all. According to XCOM, some asshole in a trench coat could be standing two meters behind you RIGHT NOW and you'd never notice, despite the GLOWING EYES on their helmet, the ENORMOUS RIFLE over their shoulder, and the way they do that crazy one-handed ninja dash everywhere they go. One could literally be running circles around me while I type this and I'd never see them. Except that my computer desk is pressed in a corner, so the Reaper would be smashing holes through two walls to do it. Then again, watching how sectopods blithely cause more damage to their bases than XCOM, the Reaper would probably _still_ remain concealed.

Oh, I get that it's all for gameplay. But it's just impossibly stupid from a logical perspective. What? I want _logic_ in a game about telepathic aliens and soldiers with grapnel launchers? Psh.

Odd as it may seem, I don't like Elena Dragunova much in game. The way she rants on...and on...and on...and ON...it's just annoying. I like her voice, I will say that, and she's got that "stone cold badass" vibe, but...there are reasons I prefer Mox. Mox is possibly the most badass character in XCOM 2. What, you thought I was ACTUALLY going to kill him in 33? He's probably the safest character in the fic. Hell, I'd kill Mariah before I killed Mox.

Until then, _Vigilo Confido_.


	43. Under the Gun

_Please remember to favorite and follow!_

* * *

 _"Strength does not come from physical capacity. It comes from an indomitable will."_

 _~Mahatma Gandhi_

* * *

 **Chapter Forty-three: Under the Gun**

Aileen Quinn dove for cover, swearing in a wild stream of abandoned syllables. Red fire from that turret ripped up the ground where she'd been standing, and it traced over a fuel tank she'd just barely recognized in time to not use for cover-

 _Ka-boom!_ The blast shook the earth and filled the sky with smoke, and Aileen yelped as shrapnel cut the side of her neck. She never lost her grip on the Bolt Caster, though, and she brought it up as, from the darkness, a viper charged. It hissed and snarled, bringing its head back to prepare its poison spit-

 _Blam!_ The bolt ripped its head clean off its shoulders, and green burst up along with yellow. The mixed display flowed over those...those venom glands, Aileen supposed, dripping off onto the permacrete of the yard while the viper's body still stood upright, as if it were calling bullshit on a sudden loss of cranial command.

"This piece of _shit_ -" Aileen fumbled the reload, and she devolved into an even more obscene suggestion involving her weapon and Doctor Vahlen. She cried out when the earth rumbled again, this time from Queen Kong over there doing a flying leap in Mox's general direction. The Skirmisher's grapple went off, and Aileen hoped he'd gotten to a good firing position. Sure enough, yellow traces arced out from a watchtower a moment later.

"Got it!" Aileen brought her weapon back up even as the smoke cleared. The turret twitched, bearing down on her, and for a heartbeat there was a race between flesh and motors to see who was quicker on the draw.

Then the turret blew apart as the magnetically-accelerated bolt punched through its armor like paper, tearing its central processing unit out the far side. What was left of the emplacement self-destructed like the rest of the alien gear, and Aileen heard Dragunova swear in Russian.

" _Watch your fire!_ " she called. Aileen didn't bother to shoot back her perfectly logical counterarguments about how she hadn't a clue where the Reaper had vanished to.

She didn't bother because the Queen burst from the ash cloud at that moment, roaring like a dinosaur of old, and Aileen had to scream and dive before she got turned into an Irish pancake. Fists drove into the yard, and metal accelerators drove in around them like piledrivers. Permacrete cracked and chips turned to shrapnel, scouring the air and Aileen's back. She thanked God and the Shens for her Predator armor...and she wondered whether it would accomplish jack shit if she took one of those punches to the chest like MacLeod had.

"Come on, ugly!" Aileen cried, though her knees knocked. She snapped a new bolt into place. "Nessie, tase the bitch!"

Her drone arced in with an obedient beep or two. Electricity arced out and over the Queen's arms, playing hell with her mechanical assistance. The beast roared, spraying spittle like a dragon's fire.

Then Aileen hit the trigger, and her bolt tore right into its chest.

"What the-" She cut herself off as the monster howled, crashing to its hands and knees. It shook its head dazedly while electricity coursed over its limbs. Aileen waved to the tower. "Mox! Light her up!"

"It will be done!" And then the bullpup proved him a man...soldier of his word. The Queen moaned almost pitifully under the fire, while Aileen fought simply to reload-

She thought she heard footsteps in the instant before-

 _Wham!_

Everything went dark.

* * *

" _Quinn's down!_ " That was Saleh, and Gallant's opinion of the Saudi went up when heard not a shred - not a _shred_ \- of panic in his methodical tone. " _Anyone see what hit her?_ "

"That bitch!" Jane seized the rail in both hands, and furious fire boiled up in her eyes. "It had to be the purple skank-"

"Is she alive, Menace?" Gallant demanded. He ignored the gasp from over his shoulder, save to wonder if he had to order the Irishwoman on his bridge thrown into a cell so he could concentrate.

" _Seems that way,_ Avenger," Nui Tashiro finally reported. The holodisplay flashed in tune with the gun reports that echoed through her com. Gallant bared his teeth as he watched a pair of Advent soldiers fold up before they could reach safe firing positions. " _We've got more hostiles coming out of the facility. They're fully roused and ready now._ "

"Roger that, one-five." Bradford glanced up to Gallant, then back at the display. "Outrider, get your ass down to Quinn and see if you can get her back up."

"God," Gallant growled, as he watched the ensuing chaos of war-ballet, "I hope Rogers and Liang are having better luck than us."

* * *

 _Wham! Wham!_ Those were good punches, and unfortunately they were _incoming_ ones. Cameron Rogers cried out and tumbled back overtop of the stun lancer he'd already taken out, blood running from his mouth and nose. The officer vaulted after him, and he barely had time to weave sideways before her next strike would have made a dent between his eyes. He seized her arm, stuck his leg out to trip up the soldier trying to get around the sudden roadblock, and then twisted sharply, trying to snap any joint he could find.

"Damn it!" Cameron flew when the APC jerked. The driver swerved hard, flinging all the fighters to their faces and backs without seeming to care. The man trying to reach the top gun yelped, hanging on to the ladder for dear life. It felt like the armored vehicle flipped a U in the middle of the road.

Liang's car shot by, but she was just as fast on the uptake as Cameron could ask for. She came back around in a hurry, engine roaring almost as loud as the APC's guttural thunder. Even when the escort car's passenger opened up with long bursts of red mag-fire, Liang didn't hesitate to hit the gas and close the distance.

Cameron got to one knee. That was the best anyone could hope for, because the APC driver thought it was a good idea to take his baby tank into the narrow back roads rather than hang on the wider main thoroughfares. Even as the escort fell into place between them and Liang, Cameron had to throw himself to the other side of the narrow walkway to avoid getting a helmet bashed into his face. The officer had ripped it from the lancer's head, and she wielded it two-handed like a rock. Cameron ducked another swing, then caught the improvised weapon, lashing out and driving his elbow into the alien-lover's cheek hard enough she hit the deck with a shout about toucans.

On came the soldiers. Cameron cried out as one tackled him by the shoulders, taking him down right overtop of the Lady in Red. The third Adventer piled on, but not before Cameron bashed the back of his head into the soldier's nose, right under his helmet. The trooper lost his grip, and Cameron was able to pull back and snap his foot up into number three's crotch.

No matter what genetic modifications the aliens were capable of, that would remain the principle nerve center of any human's lower body. Not even the Elders with all their science could have prevented the wild shriek the Adventer let out before he crumpled up into the fetal position. Cameron scrambled up, bracing on his seat and making sure to kick the asshole in the back of the head in the doing. He seized the stun lancer's fallen baton.

" _Pizza!_ " screamed the driver. " _Eat pizza, bro!_ "

" _Bit of old vinegars!_ " the wannabe gunner replied, gamely throwing the top hatch open. He grabbed for the outside of the vehicle-

Cameron threw. The baton caught the soldier in the leg, ripping right through his armor, and he shrieked. He nearly fell from his perch, too, as he clutched at the wound and its gushing, pulsing flow of arterial blood. More importantly, it delayed him from reaching the heavy cannon for just a moment. Hopefully long enough for-

 _Smash!_ Cameron spared a glance for that, and he nearly whooped. How, he didn't know, but Liang had swerved around the escort car and proceeded to smash it straight into a dumpster. The vehicle practically upended, spewing ragdoll-like soldier bodies into the street, where the Grenadier proceeded to cheerfully drive right over them. Her engine roared, and Cameron could almost imagine the smirk under her bandana as she pushed the pedal to the floor-

 _Wham!_ The officer drove his head into the far wall in his moment of inattention. Cameron swore, bracing hard just in time to prevent a second impact.

His veins flushed with ice when he heard the leather-scrape of someone drawing a pistol.

* * *

"Copy, Central." _Blam!_

The sectoid went down with a chittering wail, ventilated through its shoulder and out the side of its skull. From her crouched firing position, Elena Dragunova paused to slide a new clip into her temnotic rifle. She hurried from the shadows of the yard, listening with a bit of respect to the sounds of Meysam and his friends engaging the Advent garrison. The Berserker Queen was still down, lingering on all fours after Aileen's shot, but Elena still didn't like the odds. The alerted garrison against a small strike team? Their only chance was to get someone on the inside who could lay the charges before an organized retreat got them all to safety.

Under other circumstances, Elena would be doing just that. But she had direct orders, and Aileen was still lying in a heap over in the yard corner.

 _Blam!_ Her rifle spoke again on the way over, claiming an officer directing fire onto Meysam. A moment later, the sharpshooter cut loose with the Shadowkeeper, blowing a trooper's brains out and forcing his friends to take cover. Elena approved heartily of his gusto, if not necessarily of his accuracy.

"Lieutenant?" She carefully checked for a concealed bomb under Aileen, but there didn't seem to be anything. Elena pushed the blonde onto her back. "Lieutenant, speak to me!"

"Uh?" Aileen managed. Elena checked her condition with a quick backhand.

"Fuck!" Aileen jumped, clutching at her now-red cheek. "Jesus!"

"Outrider to Avenger: Lieutenant Quinn is fine." Elena grabbed the Specialist's hand. "On your feet, girl."

" _Roger that, Outrider_." Someone made a noise like a fish trying to breathe on a boat's deck, and that made Gallant grumble under his breath. " _Kelly's happy to hear it_."

"Wait!" Aileen pushed at Elena. "No, spread out!"

"Not until you're on your feet." Reapers weren't supposed to be sentimental, but teams were teams.

"I can get up by myself!" Aileen snapped. She proceeded to prove it. "It's a trap, Outrider! Move, before-"

 _Boom!_

The funny thing was that all Elena really recognized was purple. It washed up in a great wave, surging out from the dark corners she normally called her own domain, searing over and through obstacles and rushing like a pounding tide. Sparks of violet energy cascaded out from the wave, and Elena only had a moment to suck in breath before-

 _Thwam!_

It hit like water too. In an instant, she was drowning despite the air, and her vision blew up with stars behind her helmet. She felt nothing from her head to her toes for one moment of awful limbo.

Then she hit the facility wall, and feeling returned abruptly in a wild flash of agony when she smashed right through one of its heavy windows. Glass shattered against her back, cutting through her coat and to her flesh, and her tumble concluded with a head-over-heels rolling impact on the smooth, reflective floor inside. Elena slid on polish until she came to a jarring stop against a tall support beam.

Of course, she didn't feel it, because she'd blacked out before she even hit the ground.

* * *

Cameron threw himself to his feet, ducking past the officer and thundering down on the soldier who'd drawn his sidearm. He caught the gunman's wrist in the instant before the weapon was pointed at him, and he twisted up-

 _Bang!_

"Fuck!" Cameron cried, as the red shot ricocheted around the APC. The officer screamed too, and the projectile finally ended its journey by driving between the shoulder blades of the curled-up nutshot victim.

Cameron yanked hard, and the gun flew. He grabbed for it, but it fell beneath the seats, and before he could scramble too far, the officer seized him, shoving him toward the rear. She launched a headbutt and Cameron barely got out of the way in time.

He struck with his elbows, forcing her to give ground, and then he caught her arm again when she retaliated with a punch for his throat. This time, the driver didn't react fast enough, and Cameron screamed with exertion when he brought all his strength to bear on the puppet's elbow joint. It bent the like a V the wrong way with an audible _snap_ , and the officer shrieked, almost sounding like a real woman.

" _Donut!_ " screamed the gunner, clambering up to his weapon. He racked the bolt, then swiveled it to face rearward. " _Do not sling that co_ -"

"Son of a bitch!" Cameron seized his ankle with both hands. The driver chose that moment to swerve hard, and when Cameron tumbled, he brought the gunner with him, right down to the APC floor. The soldier screamed when Cameron punched his leg wound for good measure.

" _Hug that shit!_ " screamed the other trooper. He lunged, kicking Cameron hard in the gut. When he screamed, the Adventer snarled. " _Hug! That! Shit!_ " He punctuated each word with a blow.

 _Crash!_ This blow was a lot more personal, and Cameron yelped as he realized Liang must have finally come alongside. His eyes flicked up to the ladder. If he could just get up there and out, he could jump cars and-

He caught the next kick. By twisting, he hauled the soldier into a full split, which sounded like it did wonders for him. Cameron scrambled to his hands and knees, racing for the ladder-

" _Butts!_ " cried the wounded gunner. He tackled Cameron hard, and the pair went right back to the deck. An armored forearm locked around Cameron's throat, and he seized it in both hands. He hauled, scrabbling for purchase, but the gunner locked in quickly, heaving on his windpipe. Cameron's lungs burned and seared as they were denied, and lights started to appear before his eyes-

 _Crack!_

He could breathe. He could _breathe_ , because the arm was gone. Cameron sucked in air, for a moment too wrapped up in that fact to really care about anything else.

 _Wham! Wham! Thud!_ The last soldier came down beside him, his helmet dented. Cameron frowned...and then he gasped as someone ran straight over him, heedlessly stepping on his ribs and using him as a springboard to reach the driver's compartment. A scream followed, then a _thud_ , and a tremendous _jerk_ in the APC's motion.

"L...Liang?" Cameron sat up hesitantly, clutching his battered chest. "Is that you?"

"No, it's Moira Vahlen." Liang threw the driver's corpse Cameron's way. "On your feet and close the top hatch."

"But...but..." Cameron struggled to obey the first part of that command. "Aren't we escaping?"

"In a bright orange car?" Liang scoffed. "I chose a distinctive color for a reason, Moose: there's a self-drive program installed. She's running off toward the Carolinas about now. We, on the other hand, are headed for Fredricksburg and the emergency exfil point, as soon as I get this distress beacon online."

"So, how are we-" Cameron broke off when Liang plopped firmly down behind the APC's wheel. "Are you out of your bloody-"

"Nope!" Liang pressed hard on her ring when she took command. "I still have my signal-mimic device, so it should think I have a head-chip. We're going to drive right on out of here."

"But..." Cameron paused to grab the stun lancer's baton and execute the unconscious Advent soldiers, almost without thinking about it. "But, if we're in one of their APCs-"

"Here." Liang pulled something from her bag: a rolled-up piece of paper. "Put that in a window somewhere."

"Why?" Cameron looked down at it. All he saw were Advent's incomprehensible squiggles. "Liang, they have to have reported your pursuit or my breakout at some point-"

"Of course they did. That's the best part." Her eyes sparkled. "That reads, Moose: _communications equipment damaged in attempted prisoner escape. Two in custody. Taking them to the Warlock_."

Cameron stared. "You...you're going to...you're claiming we're..."

"Yep!" Liang hit the gas hard enough Cameron had to grab for purchase. She had a note of cheerful glee in her tone. "And what Advent soldier in his right mind is going to interfere with a transport taking rebellious prisoners to one of the Chosen, I wonder?"

* * *

"Sir." Jiaying Shen waved from across the bridge. "Sergeant Liang has activated her distress beacon."

"They're compromised." Gallant swore. "John, get a crash team ready. As soon as we get Menace out of there, I want Firebrand moving personnel."

"Yes, sir." Bradford nodded. "Kelly-"

"I'm on it." She seemed glad for something to do. "David, Mariah, Julie, you're with me."

"Now," Gallant continued, glaring at the holodisplay, "just what the _hell_ happened to Outrider?"

* * *

She was invisible, blowing through the breeze like a feather. She barely touched the ground when she ran, and none could detect her passing.

Weapons-fire rang on all sides, sending tracers flying and searing and twisting off on all sides. Soldiers shouted, sectoids hurled psi-beams, and through it all, XCOM continued to fight, one shot or one burst at a time. Their Skirmisher held the high ground with wild war whoops, gunning down anyone fool enough to show themselves from the ash and smoke rising over the battlefield. The Ruler came back to her feet, and she roared challenge and hate in one mixed breath.

The Assassin gave her a wide berth.

She vaulted over the nearest rail, then sprinted up to the facility window. Jumping through it without cutting herself on the glass shards that remained proved no challenge, nor did melting into the darkness once inside. The blonde lieutenant had flown into the undergrowth somewhere, but the Assassin didn't trouble herself with that little loose end: that was what she had minions for. Her eyes were set on another prize.

" _I believe we have met_ ," she observed, as she finished her approach. She hovered over the prone body in the shadows, and her lip curled as she smiled. " _Yes, I think I recognize you_." She leaned down and ripped the Reaper's mask off. " _Dragunova, Volk's right hand_. _Novosibirsk...and Switzerland_."

The Assassin crushed the mask in one hand. Glass from its lenses fell, and a moment later its own crumpled ruin joined them. She smiled all the wider.

" _I had known this would be easy_ ," she admitted to the unconscious body. She knelt, and one hand glowed with bright psionic energy. " _I hadn't known it would be a treat as well_."

She put her palm to Dragunova's forehead, and the Assassin hissed with feral pleasure as she joined minds with her. She fished and splashed in the pool of memories now laid out before her, casually trampling through the chaos of a little girl fleeing Advent's inevitable dominion, over the vivid memories of her burying her parents before she had two decades to her, past her accomplishments when Volk had left her in the wilds for almost a year to prove her worth. None of that was what the Assassin wanted.

Then she found it; the recovered supply ship that meant so much to XCOM. Her smile became even more savage, and she let out a long, hissing breath that crooned with longing.

" _Not long now, Commander Gallant_." She kept it to herself rather than speak directly to the broken relic over his com. She laughed when she heard the Berserker Queen's roar outside, and the frightened exclamations of XCOM's latest crop of wheat for the scythe. The Chosen rose, taking Dragunova by the collar of her coat. " _No, not long at all_."

She left the broken mask behind.

* * *

 **Author's Note 43: Refuge In Audacity**

This was not the plan. This was not even remotely close to the plan. But I wrote this scene and all of a sudden, it happened. It just felt... _natural_. It made sense. Isn't it _great_?

Oh. Well, you might not think so. But _I_ think it's great, so that's the part that matters. Now, let me just make a Viking funeral for most of my Season Two notes...

I love a character whose plan is so batshit stupid it simply has to work. Most of the time, people assume someone who looks like they know what they're doing and have every right to do it...does. I use that to my advantage a lot when I want to learn things - martial arts things, or business things, or just family things - that I theoretically shouldn't know. However, acting like that has its drawbacks, because there was one time that no one taught me a belt-critical technique I needed for testing until THE DAY OF TESTING...because I acted so self-assured everyone assumed I actually knew what I was doing. I note I never said to anyone that I didn't need to know it, but I didn't actively act like I needed help, if that makes sense.

And really...of all people, how likely are you to mess with a shipment of the WARLOCK's prisoners? Especially given what he almost did to Dourde...

Until next time, _Vigilo Confido_.


	44. Walk in Hell

_Please remember to favorite and follow!_

* * *

 _"People like us, we've gotta stick together;_

 _Keep your head up, nothing lasts forever!_

 _Here's to the damned, to the lost and forgotten -_

 _It's hard to get high when you're living on the bottom!"_

 _~Kelly Clarkson, "People Like Us"_

* * *

 **Chapter Forty-four: Walk in Hell**

"You doing alright back there?"

"Hm?" Cameron Rogers looked up from the pile of Advent corpses stinking up the transport. He'd grown resigned to the reek, if not inured to it, but the motion was all that he needed to remind himself that the lemon-scent in the air didn't come from cleaning products. "Oh, yeah. I'll live."

"Good." Da-Xia Liang gave him a little smile in the rear mirror, though her eyes didn't leave the desiccated and dust-worn streets of what had once been a city in Northern Virginia for long. "I'd hate to have saved your ass for nothing."

"I'll try not to disappoint you." Cameron reached up to touch his face, and his collections of bruises and cuts. He'd found a first aid kit in the APC on the ride up what had been I-95, and he'd done what he could with it. Still, he hurt, and still he knew he would be lucky to even be admitted to any beauty contests. He spared his rescuer another glance a moment later. "How'd you know it was me they were moving?"

"Well..." Liang shrugged. "A little patience, a little logic, and a little good old-fashioned luck. That much security? It was either you or our target, and I'm sure she could have pointed me in your direction."

"Probably." Cameron sighed. He looked down between his feet. "Thank you, Sergeant."

"It's not worth a fuss, Moose." He had to strain to make her words out over the low hum of the engine. "No man gets left behind. It's the job."

"Still-"

"And!" She sounded a lot brighter now, as if getting off the seriousness of her own actions was a good thing. "I think we've moved past _corporal_ and _sergeant_ , don't you...Cameron?"

"I suppose..." He coughed a moment later. "Okay, real talk: is Xia like your middle name, and Da is your first name, or do I say both at once-"

"We've got a problem." No four words could derail Cameron as conclusively as those. He rose, taking the overhead grips in his heavily bandaged hands to keep his balance as he made his way to the driver's seat.

"What problem?" he demanded. His eyes flicked to the instrument panel, and he frowned at the gauges for a moment before he found one he recognized. "Oh. We're just about out of-"

The engine sputtered. Cameron seized one of the overhead grips to keep his balance as the APC's drive became simple momentum, keyed in with the dying death rattle of the engine. Over the course of the next few hundred yards, the vehicle ground to a slow but inevitable stop, nosing over cracked and broken streets before coming to rest beside an ambulance with stiff, frozen corpses arranged around a gurney.

"Lovely." Liang rose, then pulled a handheld drill from her coat. She clambered up the latter to the gunport, throwing it open without a care. Cameron shivered at the acrid taste of the air, and his first good look at the cloudy, almost yellow sky. Liang fished in her coat again. "Here."

"What?" Cameron jumped then, because she dropped something he had to fumble to catch. "That's my sidearm-"

"Sure is. There wasn't any way for me to bring your rifle across between cars, so I destroyed it." She was very matter-of-fact about these things. She quickly set to work on the mag-cannon, unscrewing the bolts with harsh _whirrs_ from her tool. "We're a good five, almost six clicks from the rendezvous point. We'll have to hoof it the rest of the way."

"Right." Cameron opened the main door, wincing at the whine and shriek of rolling metal. He examined the old buildings with their crumbling stone for a long minute. "What's the plan, Sarge?"

"I said we were past rank." But Liang still clambered out onto the roof as soon as she'd freed up the cannon. Despite its size and her lack of such, she handled it as if it were made of paper. "I'll take point. You're hurt." She dropped down by the ambulance, and Cameron took up position at her side. She blew air through her teeth. "Stay close and cover the rear."

"Yeah." Cameron gave the ruins another glance. "This place just _looks_ like a Lost nest."

* * *

" _Menace, we have lost the Assassin's signature_." Bradford's voice was harsh. " _Either she's retreated or she's gone fully undercover_."

"I understand." Pratal Mox paused to slip a new magazine into his bullpup, then brought it up, laying down a heavy burst of fire from atop his tower. He stitched patterns across the chestpieces of a trio of Advent soldiers and their officer all in a heartbeat. "We are making a heavy dent in their forces."

" _Someone has to get in there and lay the charges_ ," Meysam chimed in. His sniper rifle barked from somewhere over to the left. " _I've got Nui and Kang as a screen but they're taking a lot of fire. Where the hell are Outrider and Lieutenant Quinn?_ "

" _Ow..._ "

"Aileen!" Mox didn't bother with much in the way of ceremony, not when he wasn't any better informed than the squaddie. "We need your support from the flank!"

" _Where's...where's..._ " The Irishwoman paused. " _Wait! I think_ -"

Mox never found out what she thought. He stopped listening when he heard the roar that could shake the world, the one that made the entire tower vibrate and nearly threw him from his feet.

"That is not optimal," he declared, as the Berserker Queen burst from the darkness and right for him. Mox brought his gun up and held the trigger down, grunting as the weapon tried to kick free from his grasp. He controlled his stream of fire well, and he saw blood fly...but it wasn't enough. The beast was angry, and it wouldn't be stopped by something so trivial as magnetic fire delivered at full auto.

" _Mox!_ " Gallant cried, as the Queen hit his perch like a battering ram. The tower shook, and Mox had to grab for purchase on one of the support beams lacing the window gap. Gallant let out a hissing growl when the Queen began ripping at the tower's base in a manic frenzy. " _Get out of there, Mox!_ "

"Deploying grapple!" Saying it kept him from panicking. Mox aimed his wrist at the facility's roof, judging the shot angle on the fly. With a _bang_ , the line went out-

 _Boom!_ The tower finally gave, and Mox cried out when the shift under his feet threw off his trajectory. The line hissed into space, seizing on nothing, and Mox himself crashed onto his back when his entire perch keeled over, metal groaning and snapping and shearing apart with shrieks of torture-

 _Wham!_ The impact when the tower came down was almost as intense as the reverberations from the blast that had nearly killed him in Korea. Mox covered his head as rubble fell, great pieces of alloy the size of his head nearly spearing through his reinforced helmet and into his ritual scars. By some miracle, they all missed, and Mox managed to scramble to his hands and knees, bullpup hanging from his shoulder strap, before the bulk of the far wall that was now the ceiling could start to give. His eyes flicked left, then right-

There! He saw open air through a hole ripped open in the chaos. Mox scrambled for it as quickly as he could, fishing out a fresh bullpup clip on the way. He didn't bother reloading yet; the wreckage above him groaned dishearteningly. It could cave at any moment and give him a hard metal burial, and Mox had far too much to do yet to allow himself to suffer such a fate.

He threw himself out of the gap in the nick of time, rolling on his shoulder to get away from the tumble of support beams and the scattered spray of broken glass. Dust flew up all around him, which gave him a moment to discard his empty magazine and slide the new one in place.

"This is Mox." He was grateful for his helmet: not only did it house his com where it couldn't absently slip out for a drink, it kept the muck out of his eyes and mouth. He could breathe without coughing up a storm, and he did just that as he started off, feeling his way toward the sound of the action as best he could. "I have not yielded, and as you can tell, I am not dead."

 _More's the pity_. He waited for the contralto declaration, probably accompanied by a harsh temnotic rifle shot over his shoulder in the smog. Mox found himself frowning when it didn't come.

 _Perhaps she is otherwise occupied_. That sent a flush of worry running down to his fingers and toes. It wasn't that he was concerned - she could handle herself as well as he - but there were always...chances that were taken in action. The idea of one of those inevitable luck-based events not panning out in her favor was...concerning.

His feet moved from dusty ground to permacrete. He readied his ripjack, noting how low the visibility was. He heard the Queen roaring and felt the ground shake under her feet, but she was somewhere else, chasing Saleh or one of his friends. Mox hoped they had the skill to fend her off.

He hit a wall. It took him a minute to place it - it was a full wall, not just the waist-high divides that marked the yard in sections. Mox frowned.

"Oh. This must be the facility itself." With a fifty-fifty chance, he went left along the wall rather than right, and nearly smiled when that brought him almost instantly to a blown-out window. He used his ripjack to slash what glass was left out of the danger zone. "It seems fate has a smile for me today."

His boots came down on fragments of the window's main occupation. It crushed and cracked under his stride as he made his way in, bypassing secondary supports and focusing his efforts on the main column. No one appeared to challenge him, by which he inferred the garrison was fully occupied outside. Certainly Saleh and his friends - to say nothing of Aileen and Dragunova - could hold them for a few minutes more.

" _Vox tala for Ten_." Mox scoffed a moment later, as he stuck an X4 charge to the column, then hurried a few paces over to the first rack of combustibles he could find. "Farewell, house of _kracsad_." He keyed his com, nodding as he admired his handiwork. "This is Mox. Charges set."

" _Well, hot damn_." Gallant's on-and-off lack of military punctilio amused Mox to no end, given how obsessive Bradford remained about it. " _Roger that, Mox. I'm calling Firebrand. Saleh, light the blue flare. All call signs, check in and fall back to Waypoint Nine for EVAC_."

" _Quinn copies_."

" _Saleh copies_." Kang and Nui announced their acknowledgement a moment later.

"Mox copies." Mox hurried for the window. He covered himself as he moved, wary of the potential of ambush. Perhaps the Assassin lurked in these corners, or stun lancers, or even a lowly soldier with more tactical sense than most. Mox did not care to have his burgeoning...whatever it was with Elena ripped away at the behest of one moment's inattention at the wrong-

His foot hit something that wasn't glass. Mox's eyes turned down.

" _Outrider?_ " Bradford called. " _Outrider, check in._ "

Mox knelt. He ignored the XO and Gallant alike, as the latter joined the effort. His ripjack teased the offending object, pushing it just a hair...just enough to assure Mox it was indeed real. He prodded it again in search of a trap and, finding none, finally risked sweeping it up.

Once, in another life, Pratal Mox had served as an officer in Advent's world-spanning army. He had fought against every force the false gods' puppet government considered their foe: the rebels across the world, XCOM's forerunners, the Templars and the Reapers...it was a long list. But that last band was the most important, because not only had Mox served as an officer alone, but he had served under the leadership of the Chosen on more than one occasion.

He remembered crushed masks just like this one, and he knew exactly what it meant.

" _Outrider?_ " Bradford's voice finally registered to him again. " _Outrider, we're pulling back_ -"

"Save your breath, Central." Mox heard the chill in his tone, coming right from the depth of his tingling bones. "She's gone."

" _Gone? You mean, she's-_ "

Mox threw the remains of the mask with a snarling cry. It made sparks when it hit the main support column, and it left harsh white lines behind as it scraped its way down into the midst of the X4-infused munitions display. His grip tightened on his bullpup until he had to pull back, worried he would damage the equipment.

" _Vox tala for Ten_." Mox barely heard his own voice. "It seems I have a debt to repay."

* * *

"I don't like this place." Cameron held his pistol two-handed, muzzle down. He did his best to keep his stride light and quiet: there was no telling what lurked in the yellowed ruins on all sides. "Where _are_ we, anyway?"

"Fredericksburg, I think it was called." Liang was quieter walking with a heavy mag-cannon than Cameron could have been with felt slippers and no gear at all. He suspected she was scowling under her bandana. "Damn it, I need a smoke."

"You and me both." Cameron felt around in his breast pocket. "Oh, shit. Hold up." He triumphantly pulled out a half-empty pack. "No light, unfortunately, but they didn't take those when they threw me in jail."

"Wonder why. Did they not want them?" Liang took one, then sighed and relented when Cameron insisted she keep another for a spare. "Thanks."

"Don't mention it." He put the pack away after claiming one for himself, somehow unsurprised when Liang turned out to have an orange lighter. She pulled down her scarf to insert and light hers, then his.

"That hits the spot." Cameron blew a cloud of smoke. "Tell you what, after all the shit we went through-"

"Tell me about it." Liang resumed her forward march. "Wasn't easy for me with you under lockdown. Everyone was looking for me."

Cameron stumbled. "For...for _you_?"

"Yeah, for me." Liang glared at him out of the corner of her eye. "You could have kept quiet for a little longer, Moose."

"I..." Cameron's brow creased. "I didn't tell anyone anything, I swear. Especially not that I wasn't alone."

Liang's turn to frown. "Then...they had my picture. My poster up everywhere. I had to put on enough makeup that a dozen men and a couple women thought I was a whore, and I changed all my clothes, _and_..."

"It wasn't me." Cameron shook his head imploringly. "I swear to God, Liang: I didn't tell them a thing."

"Well, then." Her frown deepened. "If you didn't, then-"

Her hand shot out and seized the front of Cameron's shirt. He yelped when she hauled him forward, hard enough he almost went down on his hands and knees. Somehow, he stayed on his feet.

His blood ran cold when red tracers went through the air where his head had been.

"Pursuit team!" Liang cried, as an officer and a soldier burst from a side alley. They dove for cover, but not fast enough to keep her from unleashing a stream of fire on them. It punched right through the overturned rubbish bin one attempted to hunker behind, and the soldier flopped lifelessly to the sidewalk a moment later.

 _Bang! Bang!_ Cameron fired two-handed for the first shots, snarling with joy when the officer cried out and clutched her leg. He grabbed Liang's shoulder as soon as they had the opening.

"Come on!" Cameron ordered. He nearly shoved her down their next alleyway, firing one-handed almost over his shoulder to keep the Adventer's head down. As quickly as possible, the pair tore down the alley, bearing right wherever possible as they ran for the EVAC point.

"What do we do if we get there and Firebrand isn't on standby?" Cameron demanded.

"She'll be there!" Liang might as well have admitted they would die and that was all there was to it. Cameron almost called her on that.

Almost, because when they punched out the other end of the alley, they came out right in the mist of about a hundred-

"Oh, fuck!" Cameron's breath caught as desiccated heads turned their way. "Lost!"

* * *

"And..." Bradford let out a breath. "Mox is in. Sir, Menace is aboard the Skyranger."

"Minus one." Gallant jabbed his cane into the deck hard enough it produced a gunshot-echo of ringing metal. "Response from Outrider's tracker?"

"Nonresponsive, sir." Jiaying grimaced. "Either it's out of range or she deactivated it."

"Firebrand is in motion," Tygan reported. "She's clearing the safe distance."

"Copy." Bradford reached for his com. "Quinn, this is Central. Detonate charges."

"A waste." Gallant seethed, boiling from the inside out as he watched the holodisplay erupt into flames. His grip on his cane went in and out, pulsing along with the thunderous beat of fury deep inside him. He watched towers fall and rubble fly, while dust and dirt scattered and Advent units scrambled for safety. "A _fucking_ waste."

"That's one Avatar Project facility down for the count." No mirth absently leaked into Jiaying's tone, and her eyes were nothing but cold. "That's a stinging blow to the Elders."

Gallant nearly spat. "Someone get me Volk. I want him informed as quickly as possible." He glared at the blue pulsing dot of Firebrand, zipping away from the continued secondary explosions as the facility's underground portions cooked off. "Fuck that: I want Volk _here_ on my ship, within the week. I want Betos with him."

"Yes, sir." Bradford might not agree with those priorities, but he wasn't arguing. "We'll find her, Commander."

"Damn straight we will. Or-" Gallant choked that one off. Somehow, he didn't think his crew would find _or her broken corpse, at least_ to be very inspiring. The image of Command weighed heavily on him.

 _Sometimes, Edward, being in command just means you get to choose who dies_.

What if someone bought the farm hunting Dragunova down? What if in her rescue, Kelly or Mox or both took plasma to the face? What was the price of one soldier? By pushing the Reaper's recovery, was Gallant choosing others who would die in her stead?

The longer he served, the more he wondered if his old man mightn't have been right after all.

* * *

"Out of the frying pan, into the fucking fire!" Liang opened up with a heavy burst that tore through a dozen Lost in a flash. "Break left!"

"But the EVAC point!" Cameron snapped his gun up. Without the Grenadier's volume of fire, he had to pick and choose his snappy little headshots, hitting the weaker and runtier ones as quickly as he could between the eyes or at the base of the throat. He considered himself pretty fair on the range, but there was the range and then there was...this. Range targets wouldn't kill him if he didn't hit them, even if Bradford might.

"We can't get to the EVAC point if we die!" Liang vaulted atop an overturned car, and she cut loose on full auto, chewing up the onrushing tide of screeching dead. "Move it, Moose!"

Cameron moved it. He ejected his clip the instant it went empty, reloading on the fly as he bolted past Liang's impromptu firebase. He ducked as a Lost tried to grab his head, and on reflex he swept out its knees. When the thing went down, its arms snapped off its body with a _crunch_ and a spray of green pus.

" _Donut!_ " screamed a voice. Cameron turned...and winced as the officer came limping after them, gun upraised. He ground to a halt when the Lost turned on him, too.

"Run!" Liang reminded, while the officer's gun roared. Cameron swore, but he did as he was bid, bolting for freedom in the Grenadier's wake. For a moment, the Lost had another target, but soon enough there would be more of them. Liang waved, nearly skidding around a corner. "This way! Move!"

Cameron didn't dare glance over his shoulder, but he heard the officer shriek. A moment later, he stopped, and Cameron suppressed a shiver.

"How much further?" he demanded, sweat running down the back of his neck. He tried to peer around corners before he took them, but slowing down meant losing contact with Liang. Despite their height difference, he was struggling to keep up, and it wasn't all because he was injured.

"Not far!" She didn't elaborate, because they heard more hunting cries borne on the wind. "Dashers!"

"Shit!" Cameron heard more than the cries now: he heard feet and hands high above, bearing the fast-moving Lost variants ever closer with each bound. Dust rained from their footfalls, and Cameron spun and aimed up, hunting for moving shapes to-

 _Bang!_ He saw one, then another. _Bang! Bang!_

"Come on!" Cameron cried, when a body toppled from three stories above. It crashed through a fire escape and down to ground level in three or four parts, and he whooped wildly. "Next?"

"Moose, come _on!_ " Liang had never stopped, and Cameron swore under his breath as he realized how much ground he had to make up now.

"Coming!" He bolted, heedless of the noise of dashers on their heels. He swore it sounded like some were vaulting down from above and coming in hard, spitting and snarling through red-lined dead faces-

"To the right! To the right!" Liang led unerringly, as if she had a GPS fixed in her skull. Cameron hoped she actually knew what she was about, as he struggled to keep up behind her. If she didn't know how to get to the EVAC point from here...

"Watch it!" he cried, when her turn led them into another pocket of Lost. His pistol and her cannon went off as one, and a half-dozen of the creatures collapsed. The remainder - at least ten - came on while the pair tried to reload.

"Don't stop moving!" Liang cried, before she kicked one in the knee. The joint shattered and the creature went down, still trying to grab at her ankles from the pavement. Cameron put a shot in the back of its head.

"Tell yourself that!" He jumped the body, firing on the move. "Last clip here, Liang-"

"We're almost there!" She sprinted past him, moving faster than the Lost could ever manage. "Just don't stop!"

"I'm not-" Cameron broke off as she tore on, heedless of his protest. He sucked in as great a gulp of air as he could, barely registering when his next step crunched right through the paperlike skin and fragile bones of a fallen Lost.

His lungs burned. His legs ached more and more with every yard he had to cover, and his feet throbbed. His knuckles, still battered from the fight aboard the APC, gave him no peace. He dreaded what would happen if the Lost got in close enough for him to have to defend himself directly. He couldn't seem to get enough air in to satisfy him, no matter how hard he gulped for it. Everything smelled like stale asbestos and sour milk.

"There!" Liang pointed, though it was a moment before Cameron could follow her around her corner and see what she did. He clutched his pistol, listening to the dashers on their tail.

"I hope to God you're right!" He stumbled up after her, even as she reached into her coat of tricks and pulled out the blue beacon of freedom. Liang tossed it into the first clear space she could, then turned about.

"Firebrand?" she called. "Firebrand, this is Wraith-one! We are compromised, repeat, compromised, with incoming-"

"Yeah, a metric fuckton of incoming!" Cameron called, as the dashers burst around the corner. They came in a tide, and he snapped his pistol up as fast as he could. It bucked and roared, spitting harsh mag-tracers into the throng. "Firebrand, do you copy?"

Nothing crackled in his ear. He ground his teeth, wincing when Liang's mag-cannon opened up. Lost bodies tumbled and collapsed, and the sheer weight of fire was enough to drive the swarm back on its heels.

"Ammo?" Liang demanded. Cameron swallowed as the second wave pushed past the first, thundering forward without a care.

"Half a clip!" He fired again, then again, thankfully claiming one per shot. "Quarter clip!"

 _Ratta-tatta-tatta!_ Liang's cannon lit up, almost drowning out her cry of "one third!" His own pistol's _bang_ was almost drowned by the roar. For one glorious instant, their fire was enough. The Lost hesitated.

Then Cameron's pistol had nothing left, and Liang's cannon stuttered into silence.

"...empty." In the sudden silence, Cameron's ragged whisper echoed. He fancied in that one word, he heard his own death warrant signed and sealed. Reflexively, he squeezed the trigger again, as if hoping Jesus had come down and done unto the magazine what he had done for the loaves and fishes.

The Lost charged.

"Shit!" Cameron grabbed a fallen wooden beam. It was the best weapon he could find, and he threw himself between the horde and Liang. "Sergeant, run-"

"I'm not going anywhere!" She drew an orange-and-red charge from her coat. "Head down!"

"That'll draw more of them-"

"Long term problem!" She'd never hesitated, and her prized incendiary grenade flew out into the crowd sans its pin. Cameron had to avert his eyes as it cooked off with a titanic surge of light, scourging him with a wave of heat that washed over him from head to toe. For all the conflagration did to him, the consequences for the Lost were even worse: the flames set into their thin skin and ripped up to their eyes, boiling them from the inside out. Without any form of armor to protect them, their dead flesh and rotting bones were nothing but kindling. Cameron almost cheered.

Almost, because he heard the chorus of answering howls that followed the detonation.

"Here they come!" He had no more time to talk, instead using his weapon to bash in the head of the first dasher to tear his way. He clouted a second one a moment later, then had to duck as a third came for him from behind. Liang's fists flew, and she yelped as they bit her on the shoulders straight through her coat and her blouse. Cameron's back pressed into hers, and as the burning Lost surged in, he knew this had to be-

It was the strangest sensation he'd ever felt. One moment he was on his feet and fighting...and then there was purple, spiraling in like snakes on all sides. It rose up in a dome all about him, and his view of the outside world hazed over. His back still remained pressed to Liang's, and from her sudden gasp, she must have been fully inside just like him.

"What the hell," Cameron managed. He jumped as the dome hit the end of his wooden pole, and it snapped the weapon in two as if it were an overgrown twig.

 _Blam! Blam! Ratta-tatta-tatta!_

"That's gunfire!" Liang crowed. Another noise filled the air: one more thunderous, one deeper, one unmistakable.

" _Hello, Wraith-one._ " There was that angelic voice! " _Your favorite nondescript beauty is back!_ "

"Firebrand!" Cameron pumped his fist in the air, watching the distorted display as tracers arced from the Skyranger's drop bay. He heard shard guns and a cannon going off, and suspected there had to be at least Jane and David, and either Julie or Sylvie to have covered Liang and Cameron so well. Maybe both.

" _In the flight suit!_ " the pilot agreed. " _You two just sit tight until the exterminators finish the job, and then we'll get you out of the fishbowl_."

"Hot damn." Cameron reached for that pack of smokes again. "Did you lose that lighter?"

"Fuck no." Liang whipped it out as if challenged.

"Good, good." Cameron offered her a cigarette, not noticing for a moment she already had one up and ready. He blinked. "Where'd you get that?"

"You made me take two."

"Oh. Did I?" Cameron blinked slowly. "I guess I did." He laughed as she lit him up. "It's been a long day, hasn't it?"

"Damn straight." She puffed out a happy cloud of smoke. "But it's over now."

"It is." Cameron sank to a seat on a dead Lost. He sucked in a deep lungful of smoke. "The worst is behind us."

* * *

 **Author's Note 44: Ambush**

Converting the format of a covert op in the game to a proper chapter was really annoying. I'm not happy with how it came out, but this is probably as good as I can get under the circumstances. I wonder how come your operatives have full kit and gear in the actual missions - wouldn't that kind of thing be hard to hide or muscle around? EW made more sense having the covert op carry only a pistol, because those are easy to conceal.

I'm touching on my note from 34 again real quick: I'm writing this two days after 34 posted(hello, readers in the **FUTURE**!), so I've still got that MS review in my inbox as of now. Odds are I'm going to need to pivot to working on that soon, so I can take full advantage of my temporary critique partner. After that, I have to do a final-pass edit on the next novel for my online serials, since it will start airing in mid-May and I have substantive changes I want to make. After _that_ , I'll probably chain into working directly on the **next** serial project, which is currently sitting at 45% completion on my hard drive. EDIT: Closer to 75% as of the time of posting.

What that means is that after the next update - Chapter 45 - **there will be a hiatus on Vigilo Confido**. I don't know exactly how long it will be, but don't expect any updates for a week or two thereafter. Hopefully the break veers shorter, but that depends on if I can knock out my writing targets this month. I'll get back to work on that as soon as I finish this edit. Sorry for the break, but it took me a good bit of time to complete that MS review work(better to do it right than do it fast), and I'm making up for it now.

Until next time, _Vigilo Confido_.


	45. Ashes and Temples

_Please remember to favorite and follow!_

* * *

 _"To every man upon this earth, death cometh soon or late.  
And how can man die better, than facing fearful odds,  
For the ashes of his fathers, and the temples of his Gods."_

 _~Thomas Babington Macaulay_

* * *

 **Chapter Forty-five: Ashes and Temples**

The klaxon was what woke him.

It beat at his ears with the subtlety of a thousand screaming souls, punching deep into his subconscious and hurling him out of bed before his mind had realized he wasn't asleep. His fingers wrapped around the grip of his bedside pistol in an instant, and by the time his eyes finished truly opening, he was standing in nothing but his underwear, sheets falling in a cascade around his muscled, lined, and scarred body.

" _Red Alert!_ " Those two words sent a chill through his veins. " _All hands, this is Carlock. This is not a drill: the base is under attack!_ "

"What?" Shaojie Zhang blinked once. "How on earth did they-"

 _Ka-boom!_ The ceiling shook, and Zhang shelved the questions. He seized pants and threw on his shoes, then took the gun and slammed hard on the access button beside his room's circular door shield. It hissed open in a flash, even while more detonations rang out, and Zhang sprinted into the corridor without bothering to hunt down a shirt.

"Chilong!" Said Tariq burst from his room across the hall at the same time. "Where are they coming from?"

"How the hell should I know?" Zhang glanced down the hall. "Anyone else here?"

"I think Fatima was getting her wrist looked at. Annette and Matt were...being Annette and Matt." Said lacked the habits of a Triad operative, and for that he lacked a sidearm. But he wasn't unarmed: he pointed with a rather large knife. "Marcel's door is open."

"He must have already moved out, or he was up when this happened. It is late." Chilong cursed his advancing age. Sleeping in past six? Soon the kids would be outstripping him. "Use your psi-powers and get me in contact with someone. How bad is it?"

"Hang on." Said inhaled sharply, and Zhang waited with very little patience as his eyes went purple. More explosions shook the base, and debris fell from above in short tides. Some chunks of metal and dirt rained off his shoulders, but he hardly noticed them.

"Right." Said finally exhaled. "Annette's got Matt and Marcel. They're holding Command. Looks like the main body of the enemy force is punching in through the primary access tunnel."

"Copy." Zhang turned. "I'm going to do what I can. Collect our weapons and follow me!"

"Roger that!" Said took a left-hand side passage, ducking low for speed. Zhang ran, not feeling the underground mortuary-chill even on his exposed skin. Adrenaline surged, searing his fingers and toes and throwing him on.

"How?" he wondered, as he made for Command. "How did they _find_ us?"

* * *

"What on Earth-"

Fatima Tariq cried out as one of the overhead ventilation covers blew off. She vaulted back, heedless of her hip jabbing painfully into an infirmary table and nearly flipping it over. Medical techs on all sides yelped and ducked, some grabbing for whatever could be repurposed into a weapon on the fly.

Fatima had no time for that, because the first stun lancer came down while everyone was reacting.

" _Mor balaten_ -"

"Shut up!" She lapsed into her native tongue then, as she lunged in and gave him a vicious up elbow with her bad arm. He reeled, and Fatima's push-kick would have put him through any wall that wasn't reinforced with alien alloy. The lancer crumpled with a pathetic wail as at least a dozen of his ribs broke in half.

" _You!_ " Fatima caught the number-two man on the side of his cheek. This one turned out to be a soldier, and he screamed as her power literally flowed down her arm, burning a purple handprint on the side of his face. " _I see you!_ "

Then there were more. Sectoids and lancers and troopers all came down, at least a full strike team's worth. Fatima grabbed one of the aliens by the crown of his head, twisting sharply and ripping every vertebrae from his skull down in directions it wasn't supposed to go. Around her, the medical staff lunged, doing what they could with what they had, and Advent soldiers screamed as scalpels found throats. Fatima's mind-controlled thrall opened fire, gunning down someone who seemed like his own sergeant.

Then the magnetic fire kicked off in earnest, and Fatima covered her head as shots ricocheted. She grabbed the first doctor she could, shoving him toward the door with a cry not even she fully understood. Something kissed her leg, and a moment later she felt blood trickle. At least it still bore her weight-

"Shit!" Fatima ducked as a shot hit that table she'd run into. It cracked and flew, spewing medical papers and equipment through the air. Fatima yelped again as something metal and solid whacked her in the shoulder.

Someone caught her from behind. Fatima shot an elbow into their face, and the arms around her waist disappeared. She spun, kicking right up into the fork of her enemy's legs. The red-armored officer tumbled with a shout.

"Get out!" Fatima shouted, muscling another doctor toward safety. A quick glance revealed only blood and broken corpses left - their courage remained, but their effectiveness...

" _All hands report to defensive positions!_ " Carlock kept up his announcements even as more explosions broke ceiling tiles, and Fatima scrambled for the nearest emergency locker, smashing it with her elbow and ripping out the fireaxe within. " _The base has been fully compromised by a hostile force-_ "

Fatima brought the axe down on the back of a sectoid's head, nearly splitting it in two. She ripped the blade free, hauling the body up to absorb wild shots from the remaining soldiers, now deployed and willing to engage. She inhaled, drawing on her Gift, and they both howled, clutching at their heads. Their chips misfired under her tender minstrations, and a moment later both overloaded and detonated, ripping shrapnel fragments through the Adventers' brains. They toppled with smoke pouring from their noses and ears.

"Tisiphone, get out of there!" cried one of the doctors, and Fatima needed no further encouragement. She threw the axe one-handed, not surprised when it missed anything of consequence but well served by how it forced the enemy down. She dove through the door in the nick of time, rolling under a surge of plasma-fire from a pair of angry vipers. The doctor hit the door seal, and not only did it close but the heavy alloy blast door slammed down as well.

"Does anyone have a com?" Fatima demanded. She pushed to her feet, warily eyeing the spots of green appearing on the door. "That might hold them for ten minutes. Less if they drop a gatekeeper."

"I've got one." The doctor proved a man of his word, and he offered the earpiece. "We'll hunker down in the secure levels until you can get a handle on this."

"Do that. You'll be safe there." Fatima stuck the device in and activated it. "All channels, this is Tisiphone. I am unhurt and active in the medical wing-"

" _There you are!_ " Annette might have been playing laser tag for her tone. " _Get down to Command and make it snappy! They're pushing in and you're going to miss all the action-_ "

" _Belay that order_." There was no mistaking that harsh, in-and-out accent. " _Tisiphone and Megaera, report to Bay Seven immediately. I am on my way there and need an escort._ "

"Doctor..." Fatima cut herself off. "Copy that. I will be there as soon as I've hit the Armory-"

" _Come immediately. There is no time!_ " Vahlen's voice cracked with animated anxiety. " _Now, Tisiphone!_ "

"I'm coming!" Her feet were moving before her lips finished. "Just what on earth is so-"

" _Vahlen out_." And then she was, and Fatima was no closer to answers.

She hoped that door held long enough.

* * *

"I say again, the base is-"

"Shut your pie-hole, Carlock!" Annette Durand had her laser rifle, and damn it but she intended to use it. "Anyone who didn't hear you the last fifteen times is already dead, idiot."

"Don't call me names, frog." Patrick Carlock drew his sidearm though, abandoning his console station below the hologlobe. "Where the hell is Tariq?"

"Female or male?" Annette scoffed. "Male is arming up. As to the other, Vahlen commandeered her for something stupid." Annette eyed the blast doors sealed ahead...and winced when something big _crashed_ hard. What, and on what, she didn't know...but dust and debris fell from above, and the base supports groaned in an unencouraging way.

"You've got one Fury." Nonetheless, Matt Hawkins' voice was cold. He braced his sniper rifle on a far console, letting Annette, Carlock, and the other two men who'd stayed behind in Command as the forward security team take the brunt of the wave. "Where's Chilong?"

"Hopefully on his way." Commander Peter van Doorn racked the bolt on his shotgun. Old-school purely Terran tech, but it had enough kick to be competitive, even now. The harsh blue lights around the globe reflected off his dome. "I wish we'd had time to armor and arm up."

"If we had, it wouldn't be called war." Marcel Garcia had a laser sidearm, but he'd commandeered a rifle from base security as well. Hodgepodge, sure, but he would be twice the fighter with than without.

Annette shot Matt a glance over her shoulder. "See, there are advantages to breaking regulations in the darkened corners of the _Armory_ -"

"Stop before I have to notice what you're admitting to." Van Doorn glared, and Annette glared right back.

"You're not the boss of me-"

The blast door shattered.

"Pick targets!" Annette followed her own advice, and the harsh red line of a focused laser-strike went out a moment later. The first Advent soldier through the breach caught it on the chin, and then two of Carlock's .45 caliber bullets in the chest. He went down before he had time to scream, half his face melted and yellow blood painting his vest.

"Hold them here!" Matt fired a moment later, and then the few base security men and women on the upper level. Rifles and pistols barked, more than half of them lasers, ripping holes in the low-rushing formations of Advent soldiers who formed the assault's leading edge. Annette fired as rapidly as she could, content to put out sheer weight of fire rather than precisely aimed shots. The more she singed the air, the fewer places would be safe for a hostile to stand in. Dozens went down, mowed over as they tried to make their way from the blast doors down to the desks and consoles that might provide them cover.

"Are they moving their heavy units up?" A moment later, Van Doorn's own shotgun drowned out his voice. "Get on down here, you craven sons of bitches-"

"I'm seeing mutons," Annette reported, voice calm though her heart thundered. This was far worse than any force she'd engaged so far. Had the Furies three all been behind her and Chilong ahead of her, all with carapace and primary lasers, she had no doubt they could have held against anything up to a Chosen's personal appearance in the battlespace. Annette fired again, and this time her shot punched through one of the green beasts' shoulders. It dropped to hands and knees, roaring agony. "They aren't fully committed until we see the-"

"MECs!" Marcel warned, as some of the lumbering shapes in the dust cloud resolved into the blood-red shapes of heavy Advent mechanized units. Annette swore: these were immune to her psionic powers.

"Ballistics focus fire on the infantry!" She brought her laser to bear on the first MEC, and her snap shots boiled plating and added the stench of misfiring and roasted circuitry to the aura of charred flesh and barbeque. The MEC stumbled, but it also turned, and Annette swallowed as it leveled its cannon. "All laser weapons, mark my target and-"

 _Pow!_

"Engaged," Matt reported, as the MEC's head flew off in the wake of his shot. The construct stumbled, and one of the Security types threw a grenade into the gap where the robot's neck should have been. Annette covered her eyes as the explosive cooked off not only itself, but the internal storage of micro-missiles. The MEC fairly vanished in a whirlwind flash of light and smoke and wild shrapnel that cut down its own allies as extensively as the defenders' fire.

"Alright, they're in!" Van Doorn fired, worked the pump, and fired again. Each shot claimed a stun lancer's life, ripping the things almost in half from concentrated buckshot sprays. The Commander seized the nearest com. "This is Van Doorn: execute defensive plan alpha-haven-seven!" He waved to Carlock, who seized his assigned lever and held it down one-handed, shooting with his other.

"Burn those sons of whores!" Annette agreed, much less professionally. She put her last shot into the fray, then ducked as she heard the rumble of the vents.

The original XCOM base had been designed with defense in mind, and the Interceptor Stations were no different. Any attacking force could send light units through the vents in many places, but nothing substantial could deploy anywhere but through the hangar bay, bypassing Big Sky and the interceptors in the process. What the aliens hopefully didn't know was that the same didn't hold for a one-way trip _out_. Operatives could follow careful passages in the rock out to the interceptors' launch stations _over_ the main access passageway, and from there, initiate the deployment cycle.

Which, if the interceptors remained locked down as they were today, with no chance of blasting off...

White-hot jets of flame seared down from above, pouring from manned and waiting attack jets through vents embedded specifically for this purpose. The pilots fanned their engines precisely, drawing on hundreds of practice exercises over the years, and the wild conflagration that consumed the main access tunnel was something right out of a pyrophobe's worst nightmares. Sheets of red and orange and white and blue mixed together and rolled to all sides, washing anything shy of the command consoles in biting rage. Advent soldiers never realized what was happening before they were incinerated, but the tougher aliens had it worse. Mutons and berserkers felt the flames boil away their skin and sink into their muscles, burning them up outside and in, and their own resilience only made it the more agonizing. Sectoids shrieked and vipers let out choking wails that drove knives in Annette's ears.

"Burn, baby, burn!" she howled, as the Advent thrust came apart. Even MECs weren't immune to fires that burned hot enough to reduce their armor plate to industrial slag, that cooked off their explosive munitions in a mighty surge of popcorn-detonations. Muton grenades exploded in the mess, adding another hazard for any soldiers that might have survived the gale. Annette wished to pop up and open fire, but the rage was too much for her eyes. She burst out sweating even behind cover. The wall of heat moved as a solid mass, slapping people with its presence.

"Come on!" Carlock cried. He still held the lever. For safety purposes, it would snap back into place and redirect the flame as soon as he let go. "Get some, you bastards!" He spat. "Is that all you can conjure?"

 _Boom!_ They burst from the flames then in a tide, storming forward with a howling Advent cry on their lips and gear clattering as they ran. Several opened up from standoff range, while others reached to their belts and pulled out charges.

"Purifiers!" Matt's laser sniper went off, the noise almost lost in the roar from the engines. "Full-body fire protection-"

"Take them out!" Annette forced herself to rise, even though her eyes stung, and she fired. A purifier cooked off as her laser beam went right into his fuel tank. The explosion flung another off her feet, and Security's fire ripped into the remnants of the wave even as Carlock and Van Doorn and Marcel added themselves to it.

It was enough. Annette _knew_ it was enough. The purifiers wavered - not even Advent's purpose-bred warriors could shrug off hitting a wall of resistance this strong. They were going to break, flamethrowers or no, incendiary grenades or no. Even as she had to throw herself down to avoid a blue tongue of burning chemicals, Annette knew that this wave would crumble - and without this wave, Advent had no hope of breaking their position.

She knew it. Advent knew it.

Someone else must have missed the bulletin.

 _Boom!_ The shot flew through the flames on a trail of smoke, red in its anger and spewing darkness like a comet. It arced past Annette, and at first she thought its firer had missed. She'd been right there.

But then Carlock screamed, and Annette had one second to spot him with a hole the size of her fist punched through his chest, eyes full of shock and glaze.

Then he fell, and the lever went up.

"No!" Annette dove for it, but she missed. Her fingers caught the control an instant after it snapped back to the safety position, and the firestorm was, for just a moment, ended. Before she could pull it back down-

"Chryssalids!" Marcel fired, and Annette spun. On they came: at least a few dozen of the hateful beasts charging with talons clicking on the floor, many eyes glinting with evil hate, saliva flying as they kept low for the advance. They snapped side to side without warning, making them incredibly difficult targets, and their carapace hide shrugged off most bullet hits like the body armor Carlock had learned to build from it. Lasers did better, but there were so _many_ of them-

" _Die!_ " Annette screamed, drawing on her power. She hit them with a repulsing wave, the like of which she hadn't used since the Dam. It flung the animals back on their heels, but at the same time drove a knife into her temple. She screamed from more than fear as they threw themselves right back forward, surging past the hazard markers before she could pull the lever down again and resume the firestorm.

"Shoot them!" Van Doorn ordered. "Come on! Not fair if you let me have all the fun!" His shotgun roared, and roared, and roared again. "I'll take you all myself if I have to, you bastards!"

Annette shrieked, so loud glass cracked across the room. Not all of it was her voice: purple coated her vision and filled the air with a misting mire of violet fury, strong enough to throw chryssalids up into the ceiling and back into the flames. Some burned from the shove, others crumpled with broken heads and shattered knees. Those that survived with injuries like that found themselves beset upon by laser and gunfire, succumbing quickly to concentrated blasts.

Annette's head throbbed. Her vision wavered, but she didn't care: the Furies were strong, but the aliens had seen something in her when they took her. She had a gift beyond mere psionic aptitude, stronger than anything any other human had ever possessed, and it was the only thing that gave her friends a chance. She seized on the field with wild abandon, drawing up ever larger augments of power, power enough she might give herself an aneurysm before all was said and done. None of it mattered, none of it, because despite her pains and despite her tears, her successive blasts of fear-taught storm surge were-

It didn't hurt. That was the strangest thing: something hit Annette in the shoulder like a freight train, but it didn't hurt. Just...tugged. It was like that book she had read once, with the swimming woman. As she tumbled, Annette could only think of sharks, and wonder how Advent had mustered one that flew in the air.

Then she and the blood-spewing stump of her left arm hit the deck, and all that bliss washed away under a tidal current of agony.

"Annette!" Marcel rose, laser rifle blazing. He fired and fired, while Annette struggled to staunch the bleeding. Her hand came away soaked red from what was nearly her shoulder.

"No! Go back! Protect yourself and worry about the base! Keep Van Doorn and the Doctor safe!" Annette thought she was being very clear. Unfortunately, whatever her mind insisted on saying, all that came out was a soprano wail interspersed by coughing fits. She couldn't make her tongue form words.

Her wail got louder when the next shot hit Marcel below the neck. He slammed back into Carlock's console hard enough the whole thing upended. An absurdly surprised expression - something akin to total disbelief - spread over his features as he looked down at the red rapidly staining his caved-in chest.

Then he fell.

Van Doorn's shotgun roared and roared. He worked the pump like a madman, spewing buckshot wherever he pointed, and for a moment it looked like he would stem the tide. Chryssalids broke around him, hunting for less bothersome prey, and Advent hadn't been able to move their infantry up just yet. Maybe...just _maybe_...

His gun went dry. He dropped it and drew his knife, then leapt onto a chryssalid's back with a manic yell, stabbing for chinks in its armor. More of them piled in with exulted chirps and screams. Annette never saw him again.

 _Fall back!_ Someone was shouting, and this Someone sounded animated. _Fall back! Secondary positions!_

Annette pushed herself into a sitting position. She watched as Base Security scrambled to try and find a spot they _could_ hold, with Command fallen. Annette knew what they had to: if this strongest revetment had collapsed, there was nothing - and nowhere - else that would stand. Only a determined counterattack that retook the fortifications would be enough to save the base, and that was the one thing of which the soldiers were completely incapable. Terrified and reeling under the pressure, they would fall back and hold their predetermined resistance points with, Annette was sure, gallantry, élan, and courage enough to die forgotten.

"Rally!" Matt howled. He fought with his rifle until they got too close, then with his pistol and vicious mindfrays, eyes glowing purple. "Rally and stand! Come on, stand your-"

" _No!_ " Annette cried, as a chryssalid jumped on the blond American. Animal and man tumbled off, and Annette heard him screaming for an agonizingly long time. She tried to grab for her gun, but it was too far, and she was so weak with the red running down her side...

Shadow fell over her. Annette's gaze turned upward, and her mouth dried in a heartbeat.

The chryssalid lunged with jaws agape.

* * *

" _Piss off!_ " _Pow! Pow!_

The chryssalid screamed, and it stumbled backward. Shaojie Zhang sighted carefully, then hit the trigger again. A sniper he was not, but he knew what he was doing when it came to guns, laser or ballistic. His shot went directly into the beast's eye, and Zhang hit the overcharge without hesitation. Red heat boiled the animal's brain from the inside out, sending steam out from the gaps in its carapace in massive gouts.

"Annette!" Zhang ignored the collapsing corpse that still jerked and twitched and skittered, hurrying to the Frenchwoman's side. He swore when he saw her, and frantically grabbed for any measure of bandage or tourniquet he could. "Your arm-"

"Who cares?" Her skin was green, and Zhang paused when he saw the rend marks on her good arm and on her chest, ripping her shirt into tatters and cutting across her cheeks deep enough for him to see bone. Her eyes were full of agony - and something even worse. "Zhang-"

"Let me bandage you." He started to try, closing his ears to her screams as he pressed hard on her stump. "We can get you to the infirmary-"

"Zhang!" Then she howled in a different way, and Zhang paused when he saw...motion beneath her flesh.

"Eggs," he whispered, glancing to the dead chryssalid. He swore, then reached for her belt. "Your medkit's nanobot spray will destroy the infectants-"

"I don't have it," Annette gasped. She shrieked again a moment later. "They're...they're _eating_ me, Zhang-"

"Then let's get you to someone who can-" Zhang trailed off, fully realizing how alone the two were. The rest of the chryssalids must have moved further into the facility, and the flames were still too severe for the main body of the Advent force to advance. He swallowed. "Annette-"

"Zhang..." She screwed up what was left of her face, howling as another burst of motion in her midsection bespoke a fetal chryssalid eating to grow. "Zhang, it hurts..." She patted at his shoulder weakly, almost desperately. "It hurts...it hurts..."

Zhang sat very still for a long moment. His limbs felt weightless and cold, and reality skewed itself sideways into some manner of dream: the sort of thing you couldn't accept was real, not for a minute, and yet...

"I'm sorry," he finally murmured.

"No," Annette managed. She coughed, and red and yellow both came out: sign of her infestation. "I...I'm...oh, _mon dieu!_ " She shrieked, clutching at the moving bulges in her skin.

" _Leaves from the vine, falling so slow_..." Zhang closed his eyes, surprised to feel a touch of wetness. " _Like fragile, tiny shells, drifting in the foam_." He found what he needed. "It's an honor to have served with you, Annette Durand."

Then Zhang brought up his pistol, put it between her eyes, and pulled the trigger.

Methodically, heedless of the red blood coating his arms, Zhang moved to shoot each moving lump of alien, straight through Annette's still-twitching body. When at last what was left of her lay still...

Advent's soldiers moved through the fire only a moment later. When they came upon Zhang, he still knelt by Annette, pistol forgotten, cradling her in his arms.

" _Little soldier lass_ ," he sang, as Advent soldiers seized him, " _come marching home._ " He offered no resistance as they pushed him down and cuffed his hands. His eyes never turned from Annette's broken remains. " _Brave soldier lass...comes marching home._ "

* * *

"Bay Seven..." Fatima Tariq rounded the corner for the aforementioned interceptor bay - and she froze when the turn led her into the business end of a laser rifle.

"Oh, it's you." Said lowered the weapon. "Get in, sis."

"God, you nearly gave me a heart attack." Fatima hurried through the door, frowning when her brother slammed it and hit the blast seal. "Aren't we going to help Chilong?"

"There is no time." That was Vahlen, and Fatima's head spun. The Swiss scientist perched by the prototype occupying the bay. She waved. "Get over here! Did I remember incorrectly that you and your brother trained on the simulators?"

"Uh..." Fatima eyed the sleek alien-like lines of the Firestorm-model interceptor a little warily. "I mean, we got bored and wanted to do a sim flight race once or twice-"

"Good enough." Vahlen hit the cockpit release, and the seals disengaged. "This is our only Firestorm, the only aircraft with the range for the mission I have in mind. You will likely have to abandon the craft when you reach safe distance, but I have brought a locator beacon keyed to the proper frequency, as well as all our reconnaissance data that might prove fruitful. I believe the self-destruct remains functional as well, to make the aliens believe you have died in a crash."

"What mission?" Fatima winced as something exploded. "Doctor, is this really the time to be launching missions, when the base is under attack-"

"The base is not merely under attack, Tisiphone, it has for all intents and purposes fallen." Vahlen hopped down from the little stairs by the cockpit. "Which of you won this race?"

"She did." Said pointed without hesitation. "Don't know how, but she-"

"You will fly." Vahlen pointed to the pilot's seat authoritatively. Fatima shook her head.

"Doctor, my wrist-"

"Half the controls are neural anyway, you know this. You will be unable to well operate the weapons, but if you dogfighting are, the mission has likely already around your ears crumbled." If she noticed the incorrect word order, she gave no sign of it.

"With all due respect, I believe we need to offer Chilong and Wildcard aid-"

"It will not matter," Vahlen snapped, real impatience in her tone. She again pointed to the cockpit. "They are here, and the base is falling around us. I have been a fool to hide in the shadows from our own natural allies for too long."

"Wait." Said blinked. "You want us to-"

"I want you to find Edward Gallant and his _Avenger_ ," Vahlen confirmed. "The aliens have brought too much force to bear here. We cannot hold under the best of circumstances, let alone those we must currently face. Bring all our data which I have provided. Help him find those of us who survive."

"Wait. Those of _us_ -"

"Get in!" Vahlen seized Fatima by the bad wrist, which was as close to unfair as Fatima could imagine. She cried out when the scientist muscled her over to the stairs.

"Alright!" Fatima dropped into the pilot's seat, clutching her mangled hand. "You berserker of a woman..."

"Now you, Said." Vahlen waved to the navigator's seat, mounted behind the pilot's. "Go with my hopes."

"We could find room for you," Fatima objected. "There's a third seat for passengers further back."

"I cannot just abandon my soldiers." Vahlen shook her head. "It is not the role of the one who led others into danger to flee at the first sign of-"

 _Bam!_ Something hit the blast door. A dent the size of Fatima's head appeared. _Bam!_

"Get in!" Vahlen cried. She shoved Said toward the aircraft. "Go, and hurry!"

"Come on!" Fatima agreed. Unwilling to give up, she continued. "Both of you, mount up!" She hit the activation switches, and the Firestorm _thrummed_ as its anti-grav drive engaged.

 _Bam!_ A crack appeared in the door, then another. Something huge outside let out a familiar-sounding roar: it smelled prey.

Said scrambled up the steps. Fatima didn't watch him, more concerned about her instruments. She waited for the little bounce as he climbed into place, then the-

 _Whoosh!_

"What?" Fatima's head snapped up as the cockpit glass shot back and sealed. She snapped her eyes to the left, and she saw her brother jumping down from the stairs. "Wait! Said!"

"Go!" he ordered, before bringing his laser rifle up. The door nearly shattered under the next impact. "Doctor, get aboard-"

" _Said!_ " Fatima cried, reaching up to hit at the glass. She almost disengaged the cockpit seal and went to fetch him.

Almost, because the door blew apart before she could.

"No!" Fatima clutched the stick as Said opened fire. His shots ripped into the berserker who led the way into the room, hitting her hard enough she stumbled. Vahlen drew a plasma pistol from the next best thing to nowhere, and in a moment her fire finished the job. The alien tumbled with a roar and an impact hard enough the Firestorm shook. Fatima reached for the seal now-

" _Said!_ " The cry burst from her lips again when red mag-fire hit him in a sudden storm. Shots ripped through his chest and shoulders, blowing scarlet spray out on all sides, and her brother managed a shocked gasp before he collapsed. Vahlen stumbled when his body hit her, and Fatima screamed so loud her throat burned. Agony deeper than any of the flesh ripped up from her lungs and out anywhere it could, sinking into her skin and blurring her eyes with tears.

" _Go!_ " Vahlen commanded, waving. "Go, now!" She made it to her feet, scrambling for her pistol, and Fatima watched her mouth move. "Tisiphone-"

A general came through the door, gold armor glinting. She fired a warning shot, one that kicked up dirt and rubble before Vahlen's face. Still the doctor went for her gun, and Fatima watched as the general leveled her weapon, shouting what had to be a cease-and-desist order-

The figure that came next was tall, mighty, and proud. Blue-skinned and wrapped in dark armor and a heavy hood, he walked with passion and derision, stepping over bodies with a fastidious intensity, clearly intent on keeping his boots clean. His rifle he held in hand, and Fatima could see smoke leaking from its breech and muzzle.

The Hunter caught Moira Vahlen by the arm, hauling her off her feet one-handed. He bared a crooked, pointy-toothed grin.

Mag-fire hit the Firestorm. Without thinking, Fatima slammed on the accelerator, throwing power to the engines. The anti-grav drive pushed her up the launch tunnel, moving faster than her instincts could come to the decision to throw herself into a vengeful rampage. Said had died to send her on her way, so she had to...she _had_ to...

Fatima supposed it was lucky Vahlen had given her the GPS information about _Avenger_ 's likely positioning, and that the Firestorm had an autopilot to handle the busywork. It let her break apart and cry as soon as the craft cleared the launch tunnel, and kept her from having to recover for hours.

* * *

 **Author's Note 45: Hype That Season Two Midfinale  
**

I thought about apologizing, but I'm not sorry. Whatever's best for the story is best for me, if that makes sense - and this is definitely what's best for the story. _Oh_ , yes it is.

 **To repeat, there will not be any chapters for the next 2-3 weeks**. I will not likely be using this time to work on professional things - honestly, I'm writing this chapter far enough in advance that the professional edit will likely be done by the time it airs(EDIT: it is) - but I will have to prepare my next serial project before the current one concludes airing in mid-May, and then I'll want to rebuild a VC buffer before I start posting. In all likelihood, this chapter will go up about when I pivot back to VC, so you'll literally be waiting on my completing initial draft work on the next few chapters.(As of the time of this edit: Chapter 50 out of 60 is done, and I've got roughly 10 chapters left in my serial as well. I'm shooting to finish both by the end of April, but we'll see if I actually make that.) Not to mention I'm going to be doing some work for my father's engineering company, and God alone knows what that will take out of me in the next few weeks.

You can keep track of my progress via my profile page, which I update every few chapters of VC I write. And if you're into that, there are links on my profile to follow me on Facebook, Twitter, and my fantasy/superhero web serial novels. Leave lots of reviews(who knows, maybe I'll listen to your ideas!), check out our TV Tropes page, and mash that favorite button! I'll be back before you know it for the closing chapters of Season Two, and if you love certain characters you'll wish I hadn't. Oh snap!

Until after the break, _Vigilo Confido_.


	46. The Hunt

_Please remember to favorite and follow!_

* * *

 _"I must lose myself in action, lest I wither in despair."_

 _~Alfred Lord Tennyson_

* * *

 **Chapter Forty-six: The Hunt**

"And you just... _you just left her there?_ "

Fatima Tariq jumped as Edward Gallant surged out of his chair. She winced when he slammed his cane down on _Avenger_ 's decking, hard enough to ring despite his office carpet. The sound was like a gunshot in the stillness.

"Commander, sir." She was a _lot_ older than he remembered. Well, good. He wasn't the only one life had fucked over. "Commander Gallant, I tried to convince Doctor Vahlen to come, but-"

"But what?" He whacked the top of his desk, creating a gunshot-like noise that made Fatima and Bradford both jump. "But you got scared and your own stupid skin was more important?"

"Commander, I waited. But Said-"

" _You should have waited longer!_ " Gallant no longer bothered trying to keep his voice down. Spittle flew from his lips with every word, but that wasn't what made Fatima fall back. "You left your commanding officer in the hands of a hostile force...left your fucking brother to die, too, so I guess you really loved him a lot-"

"Commander!" Bradford crossed his arms.

"Fuck you too, John!" Gallant growled from the base of his throat. "In case you missed it, the Hunter's got his stinking hands on Moira, and-"

"And that's no cause to go hammering in on Tisiphone's personal honor!" Bradford shot back. "I care for Doctor Vahlen, Edward, and don't you dare imply I don't-"

"If you gave a _fuck_ , John, you would have cared enough to find her sometime in the last twenty years!" Gallant spat onto the deck. "You found me, didn't you? Maybe I am calling the wrong person's honor into question."

"Commander, this isn't helping." Bradford shook his head, visibly holding off from the bait. "Fatima risked her life running their air blockade to get us this information. We're ahead of where we'd be without it."

"By what? Inches?" Gallant fought the temptation to throw his cane at the XO. "Moira's in hostile hands, probably being tortured right while we're busy talking! If she-" he jabbed his finger at Fatima as if passing judgment "-didn't suck at her job, we wouldn't be in this mess to start with. My God, what happened to soldiers with the balls to actually fight?"

No one said anything. Gallant eyed the wellspring of tears in Fatima's eyes, and he buried whatever foolish, sentimental pity and regret he might be tempted into under a surge of contempt. Some warrior this was! Gallant had lost Moira and his entire family and Penny all at once, and had he ever yielded to despair since waking up? Not once! Never! John and the others, sure, on a regular basis, but Gallant had always been focused and had never let his demons get the best of him. This scorn was justified.

"And you blew up that ship." Gallant's lip curled. "You didn't even think that maybe we could have used it?"

"Commander, sir, I was being tracked." Fatima inhaled harshly, sucking in breath past her tears. "I activated the self-destruct on Doctor Vahlen's mission orders, in the interest of giving the impression a mechanical failure had immolated the craft and myself. It ended the trail, at least until I found shelter there in Iceland and set up."

"How long ago did all of this happen?" Bradford asked. Gallant just glared, hardly deigning to blink as he tore the Egyptian woman apart with his eyes.

"The base was hit forty-eight hours ago, almost exactly." She seemed glad to deal with him instead. "I flew around to avoid easy trace by enemy satellites, and ditched the craft as soon as I thought I was close enough to Iceland to swim. I set the autopilot and she went off into the North Atlantic to dispose of herself. I spent a day finding a good hiding spot before I activated the transmitter."

"Have you eaten?" Bradford asked. Fatima shook her head.

"No, sir. Not since the night before the attack."

"Jesus." Bradford hurried to the door, then leaned out. "Julie, you still there? Take Fatima down to the galley and get her something hot to eat. As much as she can stomach. Then find her a good berth."

"Central-"

"I will not accept no for an answer, Fatima." Bradford waved her out the door. "Eat, rest. Get a shower. Then we'll talk more."

"Damn straight." But Gallant left it at that and kept it to a low voice. His heart beat faster than it probably should as he thought of...

"Now." Bradford made sure to seal the door behind him, and he turned his eyes to Gallant. "What the _hell_ are you thinking-"

"Don't be a sanctimonious old prick." Gallant glared. "Thanks to her-"

"Sir, it sounds like she did everything humanly possible to protect Doctor Vahlen. She tried, Commander." Bradford put his hands on his hips. "Are you going to hold that against her?"

"For failing, yes."

"Is a soldier doing their best and something beyond their control fucking up the operation really her fault?" Bradford demanded. "If she'd shot Vahlen herself, or if she'd led her astray, sure. But she did _everything_ right, Edward. What's the cause to rake her over the coals?"

Gallant hissed, sounding so much like a snake he surprised himself. "You've turned me away from hunting Vahlen more than once."

"We had no proof-"

" _If you hadn't, she'd be safe!_ " Gallant almost lunged at his XO then and there. "If not for you reining me in and tugging on my leash, John, Vahlen would be safe and warm here aboard-"

"You don't know that-"

"Fuck you I don't!" Gallant clutched the desk hard enough he thought it would crack. "The woman I love is in the Hunter's hands, and you were the thing that stood in my way!"

Silence. Bradford looked down, while Gallant struggled to keep his breathing steady.

"We'll find her, Edward," Bradford promised. "I swear, we'll find her. One way or another."

"We have to." Gallant refused to accept any other option. "I won't rest until she's on this deck."

* * *

"I'm sorry, Captain."

"Don't be." Jane Kelly nudged the little glass flask a little more insistently. "Seriously, are neither of you two going to-"

"Your Irish is showing." Da-Xia Liang managed a tired grin. Even after what rest they'd gotten after rescue, she and Cameron Rogers looked like something that had fallen out of the back of an Advent supply lorry on its return haul. The Grenadier shook her head. "Not yet. I'd love to, but not yet."

"Suit yourselves." Jane deliberately let a bit of brogue slip in as she winked...and poured for herself. "And I'll suit myself, too."

"You do that." Looking at Cameron Rogers' face was enough to make Jane wince. _He_ in particular looked like what made him fall out of that Advent supply lorry hadn't been accidental. And it wasn't just the black eye or...the rest of it up top. One glance at his split and bloodied knuckles made Jane shiver. The Canadian, for all of that, didn't seem the least bit broken. "They knew."

"Come again?" Jane blinked. Liang gave Cameron a worried glance, as if she weren't sure they should say anything.

Or, Jane supposed after a moment, whether they should say anything _to her_.

"They knew," Liang finally repeated. "Our target knew Cameron's face well enough to recognize him in a crowd. And they put out wanted posters for me specifically."

"That's..." Jane frowned. "They must have intercepted communications."

"There weren't communications to intercept."

"Then..." Jane chewed on the possibilities. "Maybe there was a security breach on the local end?"

"Did the locals know which two operatives were being sent in?" Cameron threw up his hands when Jane didn't immediately answer. "See? Not possible."

"Well, what _else_ could it be?" Jane knew she sounded testy, but she couldn't help it. She plucked up her glass, snorting derisively. "I mean, it has to have been a communications or local resistance breach, unless you're suggesting the idea that there's someone..."

Her laden hand ground to a halt.

"You're...you're not suggesting..." Jane glanced between two sets of eyes: one brown, one blue, both with the same angry light in them. She shook her head. "No. That's a...a conspiracy theory, literally."

"No one on the ground knew our identities. However the breach happened, they knew." Liang crossed her arms, and Jane did not like - did not like _at all_ \- the way she regarded her own captain.

"Are you..." Jane very slowly lowered her glass. "Are you accusing me of being an Advent spy?" The words sounded very hollow in her ears.

"Someone is." Cameron's didn't, but rather rang with conviction. He gave Jane the same shielded examination. "You are high enough in Officer's Country that you'd know where we were being deployed."

"Watch your tongue!" Jane glared. "I've half a mind to schedule another meeting with the two of you over this, after dark and without the Commander's authorization."

"Someone sold us out." Liang shrugged. "We're not saying we're sure it was you, Captain Kelly. But _someone_ did it, and you _could_ have. That makes you a suspect."

"A suspect-" Jane cut herself off. "By that logic, Sergeant - I'm sorry, _Lieutenant_ , forgive me - your suspects are Commander Gallant, Central, myself, Doctor Tygan, and the Shens."

"Has to be someone." If being reminded of the sheer ludicrousness of their field of targets reminded Cameron of the insanity of the charge, he didn't show it. "Or maybe someone else who broke into the system or file registry. That Vermuelen character, or Mariah."

"You suspect _Mariah_ , of all people?" Jane shook her head. "I take the offer back. You don't need any rum in your systems, either of you." She pulled the bottle over to her side.

"Don't close your eyes to it." Liang sighed, then rose. "We've told you what happened. We've told you what we think it means. If you aren't actually the spy, I suggest you look into it."

Perversity drove Jane to demand "And what if I _am_ the spy?"

"Then," Cameron picked up, eyes cold, "you should be aware we're going to be giving the same observations to Central, and Commander Gallant if he'll let us in his office to report. Your only hope to preserve your position on this ship is to kill us before we leave this room."

"...my God, you're taking this seriously." Jane shook her head. "You may rest assured I am no traitor."

"Time will tell." Liang saluted. "With your permission, Captain?"

"Go." Jane returned the gesture of respect - and wasn't that ironic, given the exchange they'd just had? "I'm not going to shoot you in the back. I don't even have a gun in here."

"Unwise. The spy might come for you sooner or later." Jane wondered if that meant Liang didn't really believe Jane was the mythical Agent Advent. She hoped so, at least.

"A spy," she muttered, after the pair had left. "A spy, skulking around _Avenger_?" She shivered. "Impossible. Dragunova would have sniffed them out. Central would have..."

She couldn't finish the sentence. There'd been a lot of changes lately, and a lot of wild happenings. What if there _was_ a spy? All these new arrivals...it could have been one of Meysam's friends, or Meysam himself. They weren't aboard when the covert op team was deployed, but getting information about a mission in progress wasn't impossible. And even basic surmising and a crew roster could have led an agent to realize which two soldiers were not present aboard the ship when a two-man mission was underway.

Slowly, Jane tossed her rum back. She drank it straight and she drank it in one go, which did a good job of making her wish she were on fire. She didn't really care, though: the burning distracted her from the altogether more damning thoughts now in her head.

"A spy. And they think I could..." Jane stared the far wall, eyes vacant. The cold burn of...was that fear? Worry that she would become a scapegoat? What if the spy planted evidence, now that Liang and Cameron clearly suspected her already? She wondered if this was how Miss Scarlett had felt while Jane so cavalierly hopped her around the board.

"Enough." She put the glass down a little harder than she probably should have. "A spy creeping around in the crawl-spaces? Not bloody likely." She coughed into her elbow, massaging the base of her throat. "Let's not dwell. Let's..."

Easier said than done. Jane chewed on her lip.

Someone _had_ busted the covert op...

* * *

The first thing Elena Dragunova registered was one killer fucking headache.

"Oh, joy." She pushed herself up, alert as possible given the circumstances in a heartbeat. Her gaze flicked from item to item, categorizing them by importance: door, barred window set about ten feet up at the base of the ceiling, matte-black walls far too thick to do anything stupid with, three cots arranged with one on each of the non-door walls...

Two existing inhabitants of what was undoubtedly a cell.

" _Zdravstvujtye_." The woman on the window wall eyed Elena with unchecked and undisguised appraisal. "Reaper, _da_?"

" _Da_." Elena gave her a similar look. "You sound like Moscow."

" _Da_." She was blonde, she was short like her hair, and she had only one each of arms and legs. Her whole left side looked like someone had taken a hacksaw to it, and there was a nasty burn spread over her cheek and down her neck. Elena noted a functional-at-best locomotive prosthesis attached above where her knee ought to be. By how spindly it was, Elena suspected it broke under the Russian's own weight with depressing regularity.

"Name?" Elena asked.

"Who's asking?" Her green eyes showed nothing.

"Dragunova." She wasn't going to yield her proper name. Perhaps maddening over-secrecy, but she would rather be safe than sorry.

"Vasilieva," the blonde replied after a moment. Elena neither asked for nor received her own first name. She turned her gaze away from the cripple and on to her third new bunkmate. "And you, stranger?"

"Zhang." His hair was about a day short of white, and age painted a picture on his face. He had a rather nasty scar over his eye, but his posture was entirely bereft of any hunching or decrepitude. Something haunted lingered in his small eyes, but it was in the back, behind the sheet-ice wall of a professional who knew his business. Something about him seemed maddeningly familiar, but Elena couldn't make the connection.

"Hm." Elena glanced between the pair for a moment. "I'm new."

"So is he." Vasilieva cocked her head. "What put you in here?"

"The Assassin." Elena got her feet under her, literally and metaphorically at the same time. "This must be one of her prisons."

" _Nyet_." Vasilieva shook her head. "This is just _a_ prison, not anyone's in particular. Don't ask me where we are beyond that. The highest-security captives and inmates go here."

"I suppose it's a badge of honor, then." Elena examined the walls. "Cameras?"

"At least two."

"Microphones too, I'm sure."

"Absolutely." Vasilieva cracked what Elena already suspected was a rare smile. "You're doing exactly what I did."

"Window's high. I could reach it perched on someone's shoulders, but it's too small to fit through."

"All you'll see is a facility yard. Did it with one of the cell's previous occupants." Vasilieva leaned back on her cot. "They bunk us in threes to conserve space. There's only two ways out."

"And they are?"

"Door number one: they decide you're not as big of a fish as they think, so your security level gets downgraded and they open a slot for another prisoner by shipping you to a second-level facility." Vasilieva cocked her head. "Door number two: firing squad."

"Neither one is an option." Elena didn't rise to the bait. "How long has Zhang been here?"

"Got here just before you did. Still conscious, but that's about that." Vasilieva spared him a glance, but didn't press. Neither did Elena. From Zhang's glassy-eyed stare, he clearly was in no space to be a constructive asset. Vasilieva returned her attention to Elena. "They take us out for a spin in the yard twice a week: Wednesday and Saturday. We're supposed to hit weights and jog. Not for our benefit: we can't give them intel if we wither away."

"Fair." Elena paused to feel the door. "Meals?"

"Twice a day. They give us maybe enough food for two if we split it wisely." Vasilieva leaned back. "They want us to turn on each other. They partner people they doubt will get along."

"I don't get along with anyone." Elena studiously did not think of Pratal Mox, and the absence stung. "Do the Chosen come by?"

"Every now and then, when they want someone in particular who's been dumped here. A couple of high mucky-mucks with Advent visit too. I've seen the Speaker, and I've seen some scientist woman, on her own and with him." Vasilieva shook her head. "Wasting your time, Dragunova. Escape is impossible."

"Hm." And she left it right there, remembering the cameras and microphones. Maybe Vasilieva was serious, maybe she wasn't, and maybe Zhang would or wouldn't be a useful asset in some kind of ill-advised escape plan.

All Elena knew at that moment was that the prison that could indefinitely contain a Reaper had yet to be built. She might not know how yet, but she was confident that one way or another, she'd make a truism of that no matter what security looked like.

* * *

"Doctor." Lily Shen wondered if anyone had ever actually checked to be sure Tygan's chip had been removed. He certainly scratched the scar an awful lot.

"Chief." Despite that, he was courteous. Not courteous enough that Shen wouldn't keep a weather eye on him, but enough that she didn't make a deal of it now. The scientist ran a hand over his scalp again. "Welcome to the SHADOW Chamber - such as it is so far."

"My people have moved mountains just to get it to what it is." Defensive, of course, but Shen didn't like the theoretical division and its eggheads criticizing her grease monkeys. Yeah, without Tygan's people they wouldn't know what to build, but without Shen's people they wouldn't be able to build whatever it was the nerds came up with. ROV-R hummed protectively over her shoulder.

"Believe me, I am not casting aspersions on your work, Shen." Tygan made a placating gesture that didn't do a lot of placating. He waved to the half-finished computers and the holed walls, the stacks of parts on pallets and the hanging, barely-tethered fluorescent overhead lights. "I merely meant that the current state of affairs-"

"Sorry I'm late." Matthew Kipler entered, stride unhurried. His white coat flapped around his arms - he was a small man, and the coat must have been a size or two up from his need. But it was the only one available, and he hadn't complained.

"Doing something important?" If Shen didn't like Tygan, she _really_ didn't like Kipler. Smart he undeniably was, and he'd had some useful insights on how to break the alien codes, but something about the man simply shot warning signs into the atmosphere like fireworks. Maybe it had something to do with how he automatically jotted and muttered notes in the Advent language even now.

"I was studying some of Richard's research notes on the prototypical energy weapons project. They made for fascinating reading." If he noticed Shen's intent look, he didn't show it. "Where is your cousin, Chief? Or is she not required to join us?"

"No, she's coming. She wanted to take another crack at looking for that metal fatigue aft, that's all, and the call didn't come in until she was off." Shen shrugged. "I imagine she'll only be a few minutes more."

"Not even that." Jiaying strode in with brisk energy, rubbing her hands together. "Does this room have to be so chilly?"

"When it's complete, we'll put heat in," Shen promised. "For now, it is what it is."

"Unfortunately." That earned Tygan another dark look.

"Good, everyone showed up." Ironic, coming from the final member of the gathering to arrive, but no one would call him out on it on a good day. This was not a good day.

"Commander Gallant!" Shen was the first to salute, which made her happy. Tygan was right behind her, which didn't, and then Kipler and Jiaying fell in.

"Cut the shit." Gallant leaned heavily on his cane as he stumped past the little quartet. "SHADOW Chamber, yeah?"

"It is not yet complete, Commander, but yes-"

"Why isn't it, Doctor?" Gallant whirled on Tygan. "What's left to be done?"

"That..." Tygan looked uncomfortable. "That is more a question for Chief Shen than me."

 _Oh, good_. Shen ground her teeth as Gallant's gaze - Gallant's _glare_ , more like - bore on her. _Thrown under the bus_. _Thanks, Doctor_.

"Commander, we haven't managed to finish work on the decryption computer yet." She gestured. "Forging these alloys takes time, and first we have to figure out exactly what shapes we want them to go into, and-"

"And I want this facility up and running within twenty-four hours."

"Commander!" For a moment, Shen had no more words.

"That's not possible." Jiaying managed a few. "Commander, we might have the Chamber up and running within the week, but even seventy-two hours would be a miracle given-"

"I don't give a damn." His eyes shone with the truth of those five words. "Twenty-four hours, Chief."

"Commander!" Shen shook her head. "I won't promise that. We'll get the Chamber up and running as quickly as humanly possible, but I just don't see how that can be done."

Gallant's face contorted with fury. "The SHADOW Chamber is the key to finding Vahlen!"

 _Oh_. Shen closed her mouth with an audible click. _So that's what this is about_.

"We will do what we can." Tygan made that placating gesture again. "I can't promise-"

"Kipler!" Gallant whirled on him, advancing so fast and so strong that Shen half-suspected he was going to pin the scientist to a wall. "You were involved in Advent's logistical efforts. Where is she?"

"I cannot answer that, sir." If he said it quickly, it was understandable enough, with an angry Commander's glare melting him where he stood. "I was a specialist working for the Avatar Project, not alien prisons. There are a few facilities I could name-"

"We'll start there-"

"-but they were for low-level dissidents. Civil unrest organizers and such." Kipler shook his head. "Vahlen will have been taken somewhere more secure."

"We have to find out where."

"We will," Jiaying promised. "But-"

"You were in Advent too!" Gallant turned on Shen's cousin, and she nearly threw herself between them.

"I don't know anything about prisons except that I didn't want to end up in one-"

"What the _hell_ do I have you people for if you can't give me anything useful?" Gallant slammed his cane down on the floor tiles, the report loud like a gunshot. Shen didn't jump, but everyone else did.

"We've never let you down before," she reminded him. Her eyes flicked to the door. "Is there a reason Central's not with you, Commander?" Slowly, Shen crossed her arms. "Does he even know you're pushing us around like this?"

Gallant's eye twitched. "I don't need a nursemaid."

"And we don't need you breathing down our necks." Shen met his gaze without flinching. "We'll do everything humanly possible, Commander. We'll find her, and trying to strongarm us won't make it happen faster."

"Then what _am_ I supposed to do?" He sounded like a wounded animal: a caged wolf, pacing and growling with nowhere to go. In the abstract, Shen even supposed she was sympathetic to his frustration: doing nothing was not her style either.

"You are supposed to let us do our work." Tygan might have been a man of the abstract, but here his vision and Shen's lined up very nicely. "Keep the ship running and await our conclusions. Take care of yourself as well: you're no use to Vahlen if you get so distraught you enter cardiac arrest."

"As if." Gallant didn't spit on the floor, but Shen thought it a near-run thing. "If we don't have something to work with within twenty-four hours, I hold you all personally responsible for whatever happens to Vahlen as a result."

"Commander!" Shen's protest died there, because the man her father had always spoken of in such glowing terms turned on his heel and stomped out, careless.

* * *

 _Boom!_

Again, it wasn't harsh. It was low, it was deep, and it rumbled on into the sunset shade. Wetness tickled Edward Gallant's chest, and it made him realize how bare it was.

"Where am I?" Looking down, he again saw powerful, well-defined muscles - exactly what he'd possessed before his tour in Iraq. The breeze bore spray to plaster him - spray off the ocean he now recognized as the source of the rumbling thunder of waves. In the distance, city lights sparkled in dusk, and for a moment Gallant drank in the mystique of Los Angeles. That the city today was a half-slum Advent puppet district with none of the old buildings left standing gave the lights an all-new glory they hadn't had before Bradford and Jane rescued him. Gallant had thought he'd known homesickness when fighting overseas, but now time gave him a harsher lesson on its sting.

"Good evening, Commander."

"You..." Gallant turned, belatedly realizing he lacked his cane as much as his frailty of body. His eyes traveled the white beach, oddly devoid of college kids and families from Idaho.

He'd been right. Tall, fair, blonde as gold...her violet bikini she now enveloped with a long white sarong, blowing in the sea breeze but never forcing her to do the Marilyn, as if held in place by will alone. Those purple eyes...

"I remember you." Gallant frowned. "You're the woman...last time I had a dream of LA..."

"Coincidence?" She quirked one eyebrow. "Do you dream of other blondes?"

"Redheads, more often." Gallant didn't even think about the words. "Blonde is a close second."

"Hm." She chuckled at the base of her throat. A moment later...

"Jesus!" Gallant stared as her hair changed from the roots. They darkened and tinted, as if she'd upended a bucket of blood over her head, but the color never moved from her locks. Like a waterfall, it flowed down each strand from root to tip, until after mere seconds and not a twitch of her hand...

"It's good to see you again, Commander Gallant." The _redhead_ smiled. "It's been far too long since we truly spoke."

"I don't...remember you at all." Not the sort of thing he was supposed to admit to a woman, but... "This must be a hell of a dream. Did John spike my drink with something? I don't normally react to my meds like this."

"It's a dream." Her smile never wavered. "And yet much more."

"Who are you?" Gallant dug his feet into the sand, wondering if he'd have to see if his drema-self had all the agility and strength he'd had when in life he'd had this body.

"An old friend." It was like non-answers amused her.

They didn't amuse Gallant. "Name. Now."

"Oh, alright." She laughed, as if his insistence on that was somehow funny. Her soprano voice was sweet like honey and charming like bird-song, flowing gently and lovingly over Gallant's ears. "You may call me Angelis."

* * *

 **Author's Note 46: OH SNAP**

Yeah, deal with this one until Saturday. I love you guys!

Things are evening out. I have a buffer for a few weeks, and I'm planning on finishing my other project by Saturday afternoon. At that point, it's me and VC until the finish. Are you ready for it?

Until next time, _Vigilo Confido_.


	47. Grapevine

_Please remember to favorite and follow!_

* * *

 _"It is a man's own mind, not his enemy or foe, that lures him to evil ways."_

 _~Buddha_

* * *

 **Chapter Forty-seven: Grapevine**

"Angelis?" Air hissed through Gallant's teeth and over his tongue, cold despite the warmth radiating off the Pacific. "As in..."

"Yes." Angelis' perfect teeth glinted in the sunset - and was it Gallant's imagination, or did the sun blaze a bit brighter when she did? "We haven't spoken in a long time, Commander."

"You're...you're an Elder." Gallant took a half-step back, toes sinking into the sand. He couldn't help but study that sarong a bit harder. "Where are your other arms?"

"Does this form please you?" Angelis tilted her head. "I can take a different one, if it would suit your eyes better."

"I..." Gallant flinched as, for just a moment, he caught a flash-image of an Elder, looming twice his height and bearing down on him with red robes flapping and all four arms glowing with purple power. As fast as it came, it subsided, and he was left with the beautiful redhead on the beach, throwing out her hair in the breeze.

"I thought not." Angelis' eyes sparkled.

"You..." Gallant tried to right his ship and forge on. "What do you want?"

"To talk."

"About what?" Gallant's heart flared as a sudden suspicion took root. "Moira?"

"In one." Angelis raised a glass she hadn't been holding before she spoke. "Mimosa?"

"Where is she?" Gallant loomed over her, fists clenched. "Tell me, Angelis, or so help me God-"

"Please, Commander!" She threw up her hands in a very docile manner. "Don't hurt me!" Her eyes glinted, and her lips twitched. "After all, I'm only an _extraterrestrial goddess with powers beyond the ken of your entire race_. Not the belt, please!"

"I know when I'm being mocked." Gallant's eye twitched. "Give me information, or we'll have to find out if you're full of hot air."

"I like you." She sounded completely honest. "You have a muton's spirit, and I've always been fond of mutons. Your will to fight and your will to win have never wavered, in spite of your..." She pursed her lips. "All that."

"You're not here for small talk, and I don't have patience for it." Gallant very nearly slugged her then and there. "Moira!"

"She's yours, Commander."

Silence, save for the ocean breeze rolling in. Swells rose and fell, and gulls crooned in dusk.

"Just like that?" Gallant thought of gift horses, but he also remembered a certain myth about a wooden one. "It's not that simple."

"Of course not. I'd be insulted if you thought it was, and you'd be insulted if I'd thought you'd think it was." Angelis paced for the water, giggling in a very human way as her feet hit the shallows. She waded in to mid-calf level, mindful of her dress. "She will, of course, have trackers and security overrides and all sorts of other nifty little goodies implanted."

"Tygan can deal with that."

"Well, if I'd thought he couldn't, I wouldn't have mentioned them. But some things have to at least be attempted, for form's sake if nothing else." Angelis gave Gallant a searching look over her shoulder, ginger tresses billowing. "And I'm not exactly a charitable goddess."

"You want a trade." Gallant set his teeth. "You want me."

"Oh, hell yes I do. Are you offering?"

"No."

"Fiddlesticks." Angelis snapped her fingers. "Well, that was shooting high anyway. I want you back, Commander - and you _will_ come back, someday - but I'm going to be a bit more realistic about this."

"You have the opportunity to-"

"Do I really?" Any illusions Gallant might have had about Angelis being a fool died a quick and painful death when he saw the glint in her eye. "You wouldn't give yourself up, Commander, not if I offered you Moira Vahlen on a silver platter. You love her, but you love your duty too. That's something I do understand, believe it or not."

Gallant blinked. "So...what do you want?"

"Let's put all our cards on the table." She turned back to him, drained her drink, and threw the glass aside. It disappeared into the air before hitting the swells. "What I offer: Vahlen. Alive, unharmed. Festooned with anything I can think of to get your ship's location, but that's part of the game, as we discussed. I don't honestly expect any of those devices to work." Now she paused, and finally bared her white teeth. "What I demand?

"Jane Kelly."

"What?" Gallant shook his head. "Why?"

"I have my reasons." And she didn't seem inclined to share them. "Give me Captain Kelly, for me to do with as I wish, and I will give you Moira Vahlen for the same."

"I..." Gallant cleared his throat. "I don't see how they're equally valuable."

"Then you shouldn't object to the trade, should you?" Angelis shrugged. "It's heavily slanted in your favor. One worthless soldier, for your love? A brilliant scientist who could help you defeat me?"

"Why offer something like this?" It was tempting. _So_ tempting...

"As I said, I have my reasons. And being generous to you..." She mused for a moment. "I am not a bad person to work with, Commander. And I need you. In the fullness of time-"

"Never." Gallant spat into the water at her feet. "I'll never return."

"You say one thing, I say another. Time will peel back the truth on what lies ahead." Angelis cocked her head. "Let us remain focused on the deal of the present. If you deliver Jane Kelly to the prison facility in the Outback - your team can find it easily enough, and no, Vahlen isn't there - then I will dispatch Vahlen to you at once."

"How..." Gallant fought the urge, the _urge_ , to take the offer and damn the consequences. Jane was one of his soldiers...but Vahlen... "How do I know I can trust you?"

"I give you my word."

"The word of an alien means shit to me."

"I give you myself." She held out her hands, wrists together, and ropes appeared from nowhere to bind them tightly. "But say you accept the offer, and I will deliver myself to your ship as a hostage. Deliver Kelly afterward, and then exchange me for Vahlen."

"An Elder..." Gallant couldn't make sense of what his life had become. If he told Tygan he would have an Elder to study...a captive...the potential for scientific advancement was extreme. And he could break his word, too: he could insist on Vahlen being returned first, and keep Angelis, and...and...

"I'm yours, Commander." It was as if she plucked the thought right out of his head - which was, Gallant supposed, not impossible. Angelis gestured with her bound hands. "If you should choose to keep me, I can do nothing about it but suffer in your grasp as you experiment upon me and torment me for the suffering of your people. You can, if you desire, walk out of this with Vahlen and me both, for only the price of your Ranger captain."

"...are you mad?" His voice was almost lost in the low rumble of the swells. "You're giving me the war on a platter. With you..."

"Perhaps I trust your honor."

"No. There's more to this." Unfortunately, Gallant had always had a weakness for bound redheads, and he was having trouble calculating with one almost literally throwing herself at him.

"I think I'm being very generous." She pouted. "Don't you want me, Commander?"

He...did. A lot more than he wanted to admit, even to himself.

Gallant wavered on his feet.

"Think about it." Angelis smiled. "We will meet again."

"Wait-"

Edward Gallant's eyes opened, and he stared up at his office ceiling. He groaned, reaching back to find his headrest and confirm that he had, in fact, fallen asleep at his desk.

Then he forgot that, because-

"Moira!" He threw himself to his feet, then cried out as he remembered his waking infirmaries. He crashed on the deck, howling and clutching his bad leg. An alarm chirped at the noise, announcing that one of Tygan's medical people had been dispatched.

He tried to get up by himself. Tried...and failed.

"Fucking...fuck..." He'd been so powerful, for just those few moments...

"Commander?" The door hissed open, and she hurried in. "Where are you?"

"Behind the desk!" Gallant tried again, and got the same results. He hissed when his leg tried to implode. "Fell."

"I see." Julie Richardson looked around as she reached for Gallant's hand. "Your cane, sir?"

"I don't have a fucking clue." He pulled, snarling and hissing. Julie silently tugged, and she got him up on his good leg in a moment. Calmly, she threaded his arm over her shoulders.

"Well, lean on me." She hesitated. "Sir...chair, bedroom - it's three in the morning, sir - or medbay?"

"Medbay? Jesus Christ, Richardson, I'm not in cardiac arrest."

"Well, if you start, I know what to-"

"I don't need the medbay." He tried not to look at her unnaturally-scarlet dyed hair. It reminded him too much of Angelis. "Bedroom. I need to get back to sleep."

"Sir." Julie nodded. "I'll come back and look for your cane afterward."

"You do that, then." Gallant glared at her profile as they began their halting journey out of the office. "When did you become one of Tygan's people?"

"Commander, sir." Julie looked rather surprised. "I was the one Central sent in on your first day. I've always been a medical auxiliary."

"And no one told me?"

"I think Central assumed you knew."

"Well, you know what they say about assumptions." Gallant's eye twitched: his leg still raged and thundered. "Now why the hell are you up so late?"

"Me?" She paused. "Well, sir, Sylvie and I were-"

"Aha-"

"Oh, no!" Julie lurched. "Did I drop you, sir?"

"Try it and I drop you." Gallant hissed. "From the stern, dammit, at forty thousand feet."

"Then don't make cracks like that. Sylvie and I are good friends, that's all."

"Then what were you doing?"

"Our psi-practice keeps us up at odd hours. So we were settling in to share a movie in my cubicle while Hiroshi's team ran some tests on our latent shared energy. We give off different readings when together than apart." She frowned as Gallant tried and failed to bite back laughter. "Just what _are_ you on about?"

"Nothing, Julie." He pointed. "That way."

Maybe if he got back to sleep...Angelis...

Temptation cut and dug like a blade.

* * *

 _Scarlet mag-fire hit him in a sudden storm. Shots ripped through his chest and shoulders, blowing scarlet spray out on all sides, and Said managed a shocked gasp before he collapsed. There was so much blood, so much gore...his choked noises so loud..._

"Tariq?"

"Hm?" It was the most coherent noise Fatima could manage. Those horrible moments played over and over behind her eyes every time she closed them, and her stomach lurched and her heart boiled with every repetition.

"We haven't properly met." The brunette in the doorway tugged on her ballcap. "Captain Jane Kelly."

"Oh." Fatima tried to pull out of it. "Fatima Tariq. I'm not...really sure what rank I'm going to get."

"You're about as elite as they come, that's the rumor." Jane hesitated. "May I?"

"What? Oh." Fatima did her best to pretend she didn't still feel the searing absence of her other half. "Come in, yes. Certainly."

Jane did. She slowly entered the little barrack bunkroom Fatima had to herself. It hadn't been decorated before her arrival at still wasn't: the bed was the only piece of furniture except for the little chest where she kept her day clothes.

 _None of them are mine either._ Her eyes tried to mist up. _Charity_.

"You okay?" Jane leaned on the wall. Fatima shrugged, trying to lie with her eyes.

"Yes."

Jane frowned slightly. "Fatima, you've lost everything. No one would hold it against you-"

"I'm fine." She shook her head, all the more insistent because it was a lie. "Is there a reason you're in here, Captain?"

Jane studied her for a long moment. "I'm here to get a feel for who I've got under my command. Your strengths."

"Ma'am, I'm a top-notch shotgunner with a specialization in laser weaponry. I'm trained for HALO insertion and the use of powered armor."

"We don't have access to all the tech your group seems to have." Jane considered. "Power armor, though: we can earmark you for an EXO suit. And we can dig up another shard gun, I'm sure." She paused. "Have you ever held a sword?"

"No. Swords?" Fatima scoffed. "What is this, 1299?"

"Technically speaking, swords were used as secondary and cavalry weapons well into the..." Jane broke off coughing. "God damn it, when did I turn into Central?"

"Huh?"

"Ignore me." Jane waved dismissively. "You and I need to start fencing practice then, because otherwise you hit the spot for a Ranger rather well."

"I'm not a Ranger." Fatima shook her head. "I'm an Assault."

"We don't have any of those here."

"I can cover distances you wouldn't believe and be fit to fire at the end without a pause for breath." Fatima raised one eyebrow. "You ever run and gun like a pro, Captain?"

Jane frowned. "We use swords-"

"I'm not learning a new combat specialization, and you can take that one to Commander Gallant. I'm sure you report to him." Fatima rose. "But I will share what _I_ know of my style of fighting, and you share what you have, and between the two of us we'll take the best of both worlds and both come out better for it."

Jane considered that. "It has to pass muster with Central first."

"I'm sure he'll see reason." Fatima crossed her arms. "Was there anything else, Captain?"

She wondered if she'd have to get more obvious. But no: Jane pushed off the wall.

"No, there is not." She hesitated on her way out the door. "It's not your fault, Fatima."

"I'm not bothered."

"Don't lie to me." Jane's side-eye was a lot more hostile. Fatima had endured under Zhang's, and so was not very impressed. "You're not the only one on this ship who's lost everything on the way here."

Fatima didn't respond, but she did make a note to look up Jane's personnel file at the first opportunity. She waited in silence, long enough the Irishwoman finally shrugged.

"Whatever. It's your deal, until you screw up in action and it's mine."

"That won't happen." Fatima was sure.

"It had better not." And then Jane was gone in a hiss of pneumatics, leaving Fatima to brood alone.

* * *

"Mox doesn't look good." Cameron Rogers eyed the Skirmisher from the corner of his eye.

"Mox never looks good." For once, it wasn't Liang at his side. Johannes Vermuelen pursed his lips, something dancing in his gaze as it traveled over the hangar bay. "And I don't suppose you can blame him, given what happened to his girlfriend."

"Right. Call her that when she's on the ship, why don't you?" Cameron didn't quite know what to think about the South African. Aloof, detached, hanging in the background...he hoped the man knew how to use the sniper rifle and pistol he'd been assigned.

"Assuming she is returned."

"You're just a ray of sunshine." Cameron rapped him on the shoulder. "Be positive! We'll find her. And that scientist lady."

"I'm sure we will. Eventually." That seemed to exhaust Vermuelen's sociability. He turned and started off without another word, hands in his pockets. Cameron eyed him contemplatively.

"Not doing a great job of convincing me you're on the level." No one could have heard him over the banging of metal parts as techs pushed fuel cells and spares around. Cameron made his own turn, beginning down a path he pretended was random. " _Someone_ sold me and Liang out..."

He walked. He wove around the activity in the room as best he could, trying to stay out of the mechanics' way. For it all, he barely noticed them.

 _Vermuelen wouldn't have access to the covert action log. But he would have known we were off the ship._ Cameron's lips pursed. _And if he snuck access to the computer system...he could have found out._

But it didn't feel right. An asshole Vermuelen might be, but he didn't seem the type to ninja skulk around stealing data. Cameron's gut said there was more to it. Unfortunately, it didn't seem intent on sharing the whys, the wherefores, or the whats of what more there might have been.

 _If it's not Vermuelen, that leaves the command crew. Jane, the Commander himself, Bradford..._

That name gave him pause. He ground to a halt in the mist of the hangar, very intently studying the floor plating. Central was above reproach, but what about Mariah?

"She misses a lot." Cameron frowned a little deeper...then a little more. "What if that...that desperation to prove something...what if it's not Central she's trying to..."

"You look lost, little boy."

"Firebrand!" Cameron jumped. He glanced over to the jumpsuited pilot, lying under the Skyranger with a wrench in hand. She waved lazily, then returned to tugging on bolts and pushing wires around.

"That's what mama called me." She whacked something, and a big iron _bong_ echoed through the hangar. "That's what I wanted to hear."

"What are you doing?" Cameron chanced a few steps her way.

"I'm working on my baby, Moose. What did you think I was doing?" She scoffed. "We had a bit of a fuel leak, and it's cheaper and less time-consuming to fix it than build a new Skyranger."

"You can really do that?" Cameron blinked. "I thought you were talking yourself up."

"Talk myself up? Me? Come on, now. I'm a pilot: I'm naturally modest." Firebrand stuck out a hand. "I need the fifteen as long as you're standing there."

"What?"

"The fifteen." Cameron thought he caught a glimpse of bright eyes behind her visor. "Fifteen millimeter socket. You use them on bolts..."

"Oh." Cameron spotted a red toolbox, and he hurried over. A moment of searching later, he found the rusty old fifteen. "Here."

"Good boy. You get a cookie." And then she pulled one out of God-knew-where and tossed it into open air. Cameron's fingers closed around it almost automatically.

"You..." He cleared his throat. "Being around you is always an adventure, you know that?"

"Well, I hope so." Firebrand continued working for a minute. "I'd like to think people remember me for more than the codename and the suit."

"They help."

"I'm my personality above all."

"I can't argue with that." Cameron tried a bite of the cookie. "If there's raisins in this..."

"Jesus, Moose, do I look like an Ethereal?" Firebrand made that scoffing noise again.

"How should I know?" Cameron gently kicked the heavily padded shoulder of her flight suit.

"Oh! Touché." She paused, and Cameron thought she was smiling even if he couldn't see it. "You're all right, Moose."

"I'm glad someone thinks so." Cameron cleared his throat after a minute. "Um, since I'm here...is there anything I can..."

"There's not enough room under here for two." And then she snickered when Cameron spluttered. "Actually, being honest, if you can climb up in the cockpit and check the rudder pedals, that'd be a help. I need to check the lines."

* * *

Gallant sat alone.

"What would you do?" The same four words he'd been muttering since he awoke. They ran through his mind and out over his lips in an unbroken repeating spiral, directed all at once at a different set of targets.

Not Angelis. He knew what she would do: she'd been the one to make the offer, after all. She wanted him to take it. Why? Gallant didn't know, and he didn't trust her, but damn if he could see her advantage in being taken captive and returning her own hostage. And for Jane?

Speaking of her...she wouldn't take the deal. Jane was a nice woman, but she wanted to fight. She wouldn't give herself up for Vahlen, not when she didn't know her in the slightest.

And what about John? Bradford would do it, and never look back. Bradford knew about the cost of war.

"Costs of war..." Gallant rubbed at his forehead, even as his other hand kept turning that picture around and around in his lap. " _Sometimes, Edward, being in command just means you get to choose who dies_..." He let out a long, slow breath. "Dad, if this was your call..."

He didn't know. He didn't know, and he never would, and it wasn't anyone's call but his. If rescuing Vahlen - if capturing Angelis and maybe winning the war - meant giving up Jane, choosing her to die or worse...wasn't that worth it? Was it?

Nothing made sense.

"What would _you_ do?" he repeated, eyes lingering on the portrait. He drunk in the lines of her face and the white of her lab coat, imagining the lovely notes of her mixed accent...

"Moira Vahlen would do what was necessary to win the war."

Slowly, Gallant looked up. He deliberately set the picture on his desk, then reached for his cane. He pushed the end into the deck, and a moment later he rose to his feet without even a grunt of protest.

"The hell is this?" His eyes flicked left, then right...and then back to center. "It's usually just one of you."

"Commander." Janet Ross, on the right, inclined her head very seriously. "May I present Anne Lawrence, also of the Templar Order." She gestured past the man in the middle to his left-hand woman, a ravenette in red, eyes dark and somber. "And, of course, you remember-"

"You son of a bitch." Gallant's voice cut over hers like a gunshot. He glared up at the bald bastard with his purple-searing eyes, and the Commander's lip curled. "The hell do you want? The hell do you think you're doing, invoking Moira's name here?"

"Hello, Commander." Geist didn't linger on formalities beyond that. "We heard about what happened in Poland. We know what has become of Doctor Vahlen."

"Yeah?" Gallant narrowed his eyes. "Here to gloat, or to get your ass kicked again?"

"Watch your tongue!" Ross' purple eyes flared. "You are the one who-"

"I'm not afraid to hit a girl, red. You'd be out in two hits with a shot to the crotch and a snapped knee." Gallant slammed his cane into the deck for emphasis. "Your girlfriend would get the jump on me, but I'd smash her skull on my desk - benefits of being a cripple, young lady, is that I don't have any reason to hold back anymore - and then it's me and Geist. We both know how that ended last time." Gallant hissed through his teeth. "Come on. Give me a reason. I've got some rage to work out."

"We are not here to fight you." Lawrence rapped Ross' shoulder rather harshly when she stirred. "We have come in peace, so saith Geist himself."

"Indeed, so I say." Geist inclined his head now. "We are not friends, Commander Gallant, and that was unlikely to change even if hostility did not linger so near to the surface of our conversation." His eye twitched. "I will speak no more of threats and conflict between us. Our war, while perhaps inevitable, is not today's battle."

"Oh, yeah?" Gallant worked up a good spit. Right in Geist's eye, he figured: that would buy him a minute to deal with the magic call girls.

"I come with an offer of good faith." Geist seemed unaware of how close to death he lingered. "I come with information you will find most valuable."

"I'll be the judge of that." Gallant glared. "Unless you can tell me-"

"I give you the identity of an Advent scientist who can provide Moira Vahlen's location."

* * *

 **Author's Note 47: Back in the Saddle**

Okay, so, everything up until this chapter was written on the normal schedule. As of the time of writing this, that MS review is done and I'm moving forward again. I believe there will still have been a break over the end of April - hi, readers in the **FUTURE** \- but if you've read the previous chapter and this one, then we're off again. I'm not happy with how condensed all this wound up being, but it's what's necessary to keep the later parts of the season working smoothly.

I don't know what it is about Vigilo Confido, but it is kicking my ass something fierce. I'm having a really hard time getting myself to get chapters out and written and all that stuff. Anyone who's left comments or hit that nice favorite button, THANK YOU! Nothing perks me up to get working more than seeing that someone out there thinks I'm doing a good job.

Now, let's see if I can't get the rest of this done...

Until next time, _Vigilo Confido_.


	48. Smash and Grab

_Please remember to favorite and follow!_

* * *

 _"If you are ignorant both of your enemy and yourself, you are certain to be in peril."_

 _~Sun Tzu_

* * *

 **Chapter Forty-eight: Smash and Grab**

"This place is too clean."

"Yeah." Meysam didn't elaborate, but that suited Mariah just fine. She wished she hadn't said anything. Now Central would be thinking she didn't have what it took for a stealth operation.

 _I've got what it takes_. _I can do good. I'm_ going _to do something right, whatever it takes_.

" _Menace One-five_." Oh god, that was him. Mariah hunkered a little lower on the rooftop she shared with Meysam. " _The target should be exiting the building momentarily, if our intel was accurate_."

"Mysterious intel from mysterious sources is never inaccurate." Meysam at least left his com off for that, but Mariah fought a giggle anyway. She checked Narya and her shard gun, trying to stifle the mirth born of nerves. What was she? Ten?

" _All call signs, check in_." Mariah shivered, hearing the note in Commander Gallant's voice. It was the perfect mirror for that searing spark of fury that had boiled in his eyes when he briefed the team.

" _Kelly and White_." The captain paused for a moment after that, as if checking over her shoulder. " _By the dumpster on the ground level. Clear and hidden_."

" _Liang and Richardson_." The Grenadier's voice rang clearly, even if she and her all-black ninja wrap were hidden in the shadows along with the magic redhead. " _We're in the alleyway just south of the lovers. No eyes on us_."

"Bradford and Saleh." Mariah tried to stay professional, she really did. "On the roof, eyes up. Standing by to lay down suppressive fire as...as needed."

" _Something wrong, corporal?_ " Her father's tone sharpened. " _You hesitated_."

"No, sir!" Mariah shook her head, even though he couldn't see her. "I'm fine. Just fine. I'm ready. Eager!"

" _You'd better be._ " And then she nearly heard him pull back. " _You'd all better be. This is our one shot at finding Vahlen, and likely Dragunova too_."

"Yes, sir." Meysam checked down the Advent-issue scope fixed to his gauss rifle. "We're all ready."

" _The target should exit the building momentarily. When she does, engage her guards, envelop the area, and bring her in alive. Volk and his people will take things from there._ "

" _We have ways_." The Reaper's leader didn't frighten Mariah as much as Advent, but it was a near thing. " _We'll get the job done_."

" _I expect zero fuckups today._ " And then, just in case it hadn't been clear enough: " _That means_ you _, Mariah_."

There was only one possible response. "Sir."

Meysam shifted his weight, but Mariah imploringly waved him down before he could say anything in her defense.

" _Something to add?_ " For a moment, she thought Bradford was talking to her.

" _No, sir_. _Just a cough_." Had Jane almost sprung in? Mariah didn't know. She was just grateful that, if that had been her captain's idea, it had been aborted.

 _I won't fuck anything up today. I'm going to do it right - just right, just the way Dad would if he were here in my place_. Mariah tasted that thought, fixing it firmly in her mind's eye. _Today, I'm going to do good_.

* * *

"Bit harsh." Commander Edward Gallant at least kept his voice down, which put him one up on the perpetually-guarded XO standing below his podium. "John..."

"It's a necessary warning. And if anyone would wind up shooting the target in a fit of sheer stupidity, it would be Mariah." Bradford shrugged. "That's why she's with Saleh, far enough away from the action that she can't make a hash of it."

"Hm." Gallant eyed Bradford for a long moment. "John, one question."

"Anything you need, sir, I'm here for-"

"Did you _ever_ take her into the training ring?"

His jaw worked. "Things have gotten busy lately, sir. I'm not a range sergeant."

Gallant's eye twitched. "I gave you a direct order, Central Officer."

"Sir, you're at the end of your rope and you're not in the best of head spaces. You don't want to take out your frustration and fear for Vahlen's sake on me."

"I'm not talking about that." Forcing out those five words instead of tackling the smug son of a bitch was probably the hardest thing Gallant had ever done. "John, do you want her to be a good soldier, or not?"

"Good soldiers learn by experience." Bradford crossed his arms. "She's getting that now."

"That's an excuse to not speak to her if I ever heard one-"

"Reapers train their recruits by leaving them in the wild-"

"Mariah is not a Reaper." Volk's patience for pretending he couldn't hear a conversation happening ten feet away from him didn't apparently last long. He turned back to Commander and XO, and he and his quartet of Reaper guards took a few more steps up. "And we don't throw our people into the wild so we don't have to put the effort in to train them, John."

"Excuse me?" Bradford's tone became very flat, and his eyes flared. "Say that to my face, you bearded-"

"Gentlemen!" Betos put a hand on Volk's shoulder. Where she'd come from, Gallant didn't know - weren't Reapers the stealthy ones? "Only Angelis gains by our infighting today."

"Damn straight." Gallant leaned hard on his cane. "Can the shit, people. I asked a question and got an answer, and I suppose the rest of it can wait twenty fucking minutes."

"Hm." Volk left it at that, which was good, but he turned and marched to the other end of the bridge with his coat flaring out and his coterie trailing in his wake, which wasn't. Betos lingered, Mox at her right hand and another Skirmisher whose name Gallant didn't care to learn at her left.

"Whatever. I have an op to manage." Bradford turned back for the holodisplay, back stiff. Gallant let out a quiet sigh.

"Personnel." He made the word into a curse. "They say the military's as bad as politics."

"Things will turn out right, Commander." Betos ascended the steps to his podium as if she didn't notice them. Gallant tried to hide his envy and his cane alike, for all the good it did. "I do admit I have a question of my own."

"Shoot."

"This intel. This scientist, and her knowledge of Advent's prisons." Betos' big eyes narrowed, just a little. "How did you find out that she was involved with Vahlen's abduction?"

Gallant hesitated. "Well...I might have...see, we discussed opening contact with-"

" _Contact in sight_."

Everyone dropped everything. Literally, in Jiaying's case: she let a clandestine little wrapper fall to the floor, hurriedly kicking it under a command console before Bradford could spot it.

"Say again, Liang." Gallant clutched the rail. "Confirm target acquisition."

" _Confirmed_. _That's the bitch_." Liang made a hissing noise in the back of her throat. " _I'll never forget that smug face, not after what I watched her do to Cameron_."

"Excellent. Security complement?"

" _Soldiers, priests...a sectoid and two mutons_." David hesitated. " _Some kind of heavy infantry armor system. Not sure about its function just yet_."

"Understood. " Gallant straightened, setting his teeth. "Weapons free, Menace. Bring me that package."

* * *

Julie Richardson breathed in...then out.

" _You...are mine_." She reached out with her sixth sense, sending a purple tendril arcing under the hustling feet of a hundred civilians in busy Old DC. The lights reached up past the guard at the little waystation, moving fast and bright enough he turned in shock. But they weren't aiming for him, and Julie's power drove straight through the muton's cranial plate in a heartbeat.

"That's it...that's it!" Julie grinned as she twisted the creature's limbs like a puppeteer, and a moment later she had it draw its grenade from its belt. It hit the priming switch, and-

" _Go!_ " Jane cried over the com, as the grenade detonated, taking the muton and the guard both with it in a flash of green hell. Julie laughed, bounding up to the alley's mouth and watching the captain and her boyfriend vault into action with a wild spray of yellow mag-tracers. Civilians screamed and dove for cover, ducking and sprinting in all directions, while the Advent soldiers on the ground did their best to fight through the throng and come to bear on the XCOM raiders.

"Target in sight!" Liang launched her incendiary a moment later, and a huge explosion of flame enveloped the waystation door, cremating the priest in the rear of the formation.

" _Check your fire!_ " Bradford cried in Julie's ear, as the scientist screamed and ducked low, holding her smoldering floral skirt down as the concussive blasts of detonations tried to flip it up. " _We need her alive!_ "

"We don't need _them!_ " Julie fired to prove it, and her shot ripped through a soldier. He tumbled, and she turned to the next-

 _Boom!_

"What the hell?" Liang raised her mag-cannon, but hesitated. Julie did too, as that heavy infantryman in white hit a button on his arm. Red light gleamed and glowed, and then it shot outward, forming a heavy energy dome protecting the column of Adventers.

" _It looks like some kind of shieldbearer_ ," said Lily Shen's voice over coms. Julie swore and ducked as Advent fire came from inside the shield, passing through harmlessly. " _That field only allows one-way traffic. You'll have to_ -"

"Hit the damn thing!" Jane ordered. Her gun roared, and the field wavered. "Overload it and expose them before they can regroup!"

Regroup they did. Liang's cannon and David's should have shredded the Advent soldiers as they scrambled from cars to columns and exchanged cover behind refuse bins for heavy stone building facades, but the field held them at bay. Sparks and distortions flew over its surface, rippling like stones dropped in water, and Julie swore under her breath as she watched the scientist poke her head back out, head swiveling as she sought her escape route.

Julie drew her amp. She hit the trigger, breathing in and focusing, glaring at the shieldbearer as she thought of his mind in smolders-

 _Bang!_

"Holy shit! No! No!" Julie threw herself flat, ignoring the blood bursting out on her hand. She didn't feel the pain, not for a long minute: shock and nerves burned any such recognition from her world, just as assuredly as the red-smoking shot had blasted her amp clean out of her hand from all the way down the street.

" _I was aiming for your head_." The Hunter's light voice grated, and she got a distinct impression of him whacking his forehead into the butt of his rifle. " _I suppose everyone misses now and then_."

" _Menace one-five, we've detected the Hunter's energy signature_ -"

"Thanks for the fucking warning, Central!" Julie, sans amp, scrambled for her rifle. "Glad you people aren't asleep at the wheel or this might turn into a shit show!"

" _Watch your mouth, Richardson_ -"

" _Shield's coming down!_ " Wonder of wonders, Meysam didn't turn out as a liar. The shieldbearer must not have thought there were hostiles on the far roof, because one angry mag-projectile lanced out and punched through the back of his skull in a flash, unimpeded by energy fields. The shield must have been tied into the Adventer's implants, because as the corpse fell, so too did the energy barrier.

"Take 'em down! Now!" Liang and David opened fire, and Julie popped back up to join in, heedless of the risk she took by showing herself anywhere near the hateful Hunter and his gun. She snapped off a burst of mag-fire at the first soldier she saw, and whooped when he went down in a spray of yellow.

"Watch it!" Jane cried, as a form rose and tore through the mess. Julie nearly fired anyway, but hesitated when she saw the flapping of a floral dress. "That's the target!"

"She's running!" Julie hesitated a moment later. "She's running in _heels_?"

" _Enemy's regrouping!_ " Meysam fired again a moment later. " _And I can't see the Hunter_ -"

"Liang, David, Julie, lock this area down!" Jane vanished into the fray, firing blind and forcing the remaining muton to duck. "Mariah!"

"Come on!" Julie sprang up to a firing perch, sighted in on the sectoid, busy trying to raise a dead soldier's corpse like the idiot it was, and promptly shot it full of big steaming holes. "You're covered, ladies!"

* * *

"Thank God for Julie Richardson!" Jane bounded over a collapsed scanning tower, skidding around the first corner even as Mariah slid down a drainage pipe. "Some days I can understand what Sylvie sees in her."

"Captain?"

"Target's moving this way!" Jane tore past the befuddled corporal, reloading on the fly. "We need that bitch alive or the mission's a bust. We cannot let her get away."

"Got it." Mariah hesitated as they reached a fork. "Do we split up-"

"Firebrand?" Jane picked the right-hand turn at random.

" _You got lucky, Irish. I've got her on thermals...damn, this chick hauls ass._ "

"Keep me posted!" Jane's boots thundered down over discarded Advent Burger wrappers and on forgotten rubbish. She nearly slipped as she stepped on a banana peel, of all things, but then she spun around a dumpster and right into an Advent soldier. Jane hit him with the butt of her gun without conscious thought, and he recoiled with a cry and a shattered helmet.

"Got him!" Mariah lunged, sword out. "Go, Captain!"

Jane went. She heard a scream, and she heard the corporal hot on her heels. She raced around the next corner-

" _Still on target, Irish_." The Skyranger shrieked by overhead, danger-close if any rocket-bearing MECs got frisky." _You've got hostiles on the other side of that iron fence_."

"Copy!" And Jane threw a grenade over it without looking. It blew wild and angry, and then she broke around the end of the fence into a decrepit cul-de-sac with shard gun up, not daring to duck for cover and risk letting the scientist open her lead.

 _Blam!_ Jane picked her first target, a reeling stun lancer, before she'd even taken stock of her enemies. She worked the pump and fired again, blowing a priest's head into soup, and then she had to release her gun, grunting as her shoulder took the hard yank from her strap. Her sword came out as a muton lunged at her, bayonet ready, and Jane deflected the stab and sliced his thigh in passing.

"He's mine!" Mariah's gun roared, and Jane turned her back on the alien. She sliced through two more soldiers, then tore to the end of the cul-de-sac.

" _Up those stairs!_ " Firebrand spluttered a moment later. " _Okay, Richardson is an idiot. There is no way...she did_ not _just parkour her way over six-foot brick wall in stilettos_ -"

"Hostiles?" Jane supposed the open door hanging idly in the breeze was a good sign. She raced through an empty flat, then out onto a balcony. She supposed Miss Cardio probably had flown down the ladder, but Jane just jumped, rolling when she hit the ground and thanking God and the Shens for her alloy armor. She sprinted toward the commanding shape of a tall office complex.

" _Hold on._ " The Skyranger rocketed by again, and this time she hesitated in the air, engines roaring. Jane kept going, covering her head as she came up on the heat. Just before she would have had to stop, the craft whined and shot off into the sky. " _Okay. That's two roasted chryssalids and a faceless burger. One soldier might have made it_."

"Where the hell is my shadow?" Jane raced around the next corner, punching the aforementioned survivor before he'd finished turning her way. She paused to smash his face into the nearest wall, then shot him between the shoulder blades.

" _I'm coming!_ " Mariah called, but Jane only heard her over comms. " _There's a shortcut in here through this club, I think_ -"

" _Sure is_ ," Firebrand confirmed. " _Keep it up, Irish. You and Bradford will catch the bitch in a pincer._ "

"There's that wall you mentioned." Jane leapt, getting her waist almost level with the top. She hung for a moment, swearing, before she could start to pull over. "And she...she got over this..."

" _Wall run, straight out of the movies. Jumped from the left to catch that right-side balcony and swing over_."

"In...in a dress...and heels..." Huffing and puffing, Jane had never felt more inadequate than that moment. "Genetic enhancement. Has to be."

" _Damn straight._ " Firebrand paused. " _Oh, shit!_ "

"What?" Jane hit the alley on the far side. "The hell are-"

" _Energy signature, second floor on your left-_ "

Jane yelped as something hit her. It wasn't...it didn't hurt, not like agony or...or...

She crashed to her hands and knees, gasping for air. Her chest compressed, like a band had locked around it, and the world swayed and swung worryingly. She clenched her fists, digging them into the muck and filth over the backstreet paving.

"What..." She wanted a drink...something just to wet her throat. Talking would be easier if her mouth wasn't... "Fire...was I doing something..."

" _XCOM's finest. Captain Jane Kelly_." That voice...did she know that voice? She knew the voice...she had to. Didn't she?

"Oh!" Jane couldn't fight as a foot pushed her onto her flank. Firebrand was yelling in her ear, and Central, and Gallant too, but she couldn't...they were so faint...

" _I have to be honest, young lady_." The Hunter knelt over her, shaking his head and clucking his tongue. " _I expected you'd put up more of a fight_."

* * *

Bradford's eyes blazed. "Get in there and hit him with your exhaust!"

" _Sir, that would hit Kelly too!_ "

"Firebrand's right, John." Gallant clutched the rail, grinding his teeth. "Richardson? White? Liang?"

"All engaged, sir." Lily shook her head. "We've got...we've got Mariah-"

"No."

"Sir, she could be Kelly's only hope-"

"The answer is no, Shen." Gallant glared until Jiaying wilted. "Mariah is in hot pursuit of our target. If we lose her, this operation is a failure."

"Sir." Matthew Kipler hesitated. "Commander, isn't the survival of Captain Kelly worth enough to offset-"

"No." Gallant ran through his options, trying to come up with something - anything - that could rescue Jane before the Hunter took her. "We need that VIP. Whatever the cost."

"Sir, Doctor Vahlen wouldn't want-"

"Shut up, John." Gallant glared at the holodisplay, ignoring the sidelong looks Volk and Betos gave him...and each other. "Comms. I need to make a call."

* * *

"What..." Jane clutched her head. "What did you..."

" _It'll wear off_." The Hunter tapped the little projectile embedded in her neck. " _It's good, isn't it? A derivative of viper venom, mixed with some chryssalid. A bit of muton, a bit of genetic tampering...it's a remarkably effective dazing dose._ " He cupped Jane's chin. " _A part of me is tempted to take you with me, you know that?_ "

"Why...talking..." Jane coughed, and something green came out when she did. She shivered convulsively. Everything was cold, and everything was hot, and when she tried to punch the Hunter, she just flopped uselessly on the pavement. He made a stern noise.

" _I respect you, hard as that might be to believe. I think you're fun to chase_." Purple light seared on the Hunter's hand. He used his other to trap Jane's head, holding her down as easily as she might hold a two-year old, despite her attempts to thrash frantically. " _But...I need something, just to finish this all out._ "

"No..." Jane had tried to shout, but it came out as a low - almost piteous - moan. She gasped when that purple light came down on her forehead, and then-

Her world shattered. She might have screamed, she didn't know. All she knew was wild...light, and pictures, and visions and thoughts and...

And there was agency. A hand moved through her memories, discarding childhood images of life in Ireland and parents who fought a bit too much but loved her unreservedly anyway. The hand discarded old boyfriends and mentor figures, but lingered for a moment on James, Obsidian, and especially Irina. She thought the Hunter chuckled at the image of the Russian's sacrifice, and Jane's stab of horror and loss and her long campaign to battle her grief. He passed over her phobic fear of the Lost, and he ignored her thoughts of Kipler and Jiaying.

Then he found what he wanted, and Jane thrashed feebly, making low and harsh gasping noises in the back of her throat, as he pulled - _pulled_ \- thoughts of the _Avenger_ from her. It was like a red-hot coal sat in the middle of her skull: it burned, and burned, and though she struggled and kicked, she couldn't get away from it even for a second, and the Hunter was laughing the whole time she squirmed and moaned-

 _Bang!_

He was gone. The heat remained, though not as intensely, and Jane could move easier, though she was still dull. More shots rang out, and footsteps, and shouting, but she couldn't...the world was fuzzy...

"Gotcha." Someone pulled the dart from her neck, and now she did scream, as if the violation's removal was a worse crime than its insertion. "Breathe, Captain."

"You..." Jane did breathe, much easier now, and she also rolled over on her shoulder, just in time to vomit. She shuddered, convulsing with a hand on her shoulder. She coated her own hands, but hardly noticed it at all.

"Easy does it." Meysam Saleh caught her around the waist, and he helped pull her to her feet. Jane leaned on him for a moment, but with the dart out and her lunch with it, her strength began to return.

"How did you...I thought you were in the firefight." Jane paused to spit acrid-tasting remnants in a very ladylike way.

"Commander's orders. He wanted you taken care of." Meysam had his sidearm out, and he gestured. "I had line of fire on the Hunter, even if it took me a minute to set up my shot. I was able to knock him back long enough that I could abandon my perch and get over here." He eyed her. "You good?"

"I'll kick your arse if you ask me that again, corporal." Jane cleared her throat, reclaiming her weapons. "Thank you."

"Come on." Meysam jerked his head. "The others have the fight well in hand. Let's catch up to Mariah."

* * *

 _Blam!_

"Shut up." Mariah reloaded her shard gun on the move, stepping right over the feebly twitching body of the lancer who'd tried to stop her. She brought the weapon up as a priest appeared in the club's far doorway, shouting something stupid about taxis. "Shut up!"

 _Bang!_ That shot took out not just the alien-lover, but the doorway too. Rubble flew, and the patrons Mariah had ignored screamed and ducked lower under their tables. She didn't feel very guilty about it: in the badlands, fights like this happened all the time. These pampered Advent pets could learn what gut-stink smelled like and gunfire sounded like. They'd have forgotten it by Monday.

"Firebrand, do you copy?" Mariah emerged through the far door, hurrying out onto the second-floor balcony. "I need a bearing for the-"

Around the next corner, a floral-adorned blur appeared, sprinting right for Mariah's door. She ground to a halt, skidding so hard it was a wonder her shoes didn't snap.

"Drop it!" Mariah snapped her shard gun up, sighting in before the woman had a chance to raise her pistol. The scientist hesitated, not even breathing hard.

"You...how did you get here before-"

"I said drop the fucking gun!" Mariah contemplated putting a round in her leg, but no: a shard gun was lethal enough to a muton. If she fired, the scientist would lose the whole limb at best, and probably bleed out in minutes. "Put it down and kneel with your hands behind your head!"

The woman hesitated. "You...you don't want me dead..."

"I won't ask again-"

"Do it!" That was Meysam! He appeared on the next roof over, leveling his rifle and scowling. Jane strode up at his side, eyes cold and shard gun in hand. "You've got nowhere to run."

"I...I..." The scientist seemed genuinely lost. "You..."

"Mariah." Jane nodded to her. "Take her weapon and tie her up." She touched her headset. " _Avenger_? This is Kelly."

"Yes, ma'am." Mariah smiled tightly, letting her gun slide out of her grip. She started for the quivering scientist. "Hand it over."

"Roger that, _Avenger_." Jane nodded. "Mariah's work. She cornered the bitch herself. Package secured."

"I said drop it." Mariah tried to conceal her flush of pride and exultation. It would have been so easy for the Captain to take the credit herself, but...but...oh! She'd made a loyal soldier for _life_ with that one decision.

Mariah dragged her mind back to the present, though it was hard. "The gun." She reached out. "Don't make me take it from-"

The pistol moved. Mariah hesitated as it came up, but even though every instinct in her body told her to dive for cover, she made herself lunge forward instead-

" _No!_ " Her throat went raw from the cry, as the scientist put the pistol to her own temple. She smiled, wide and white and beautiful and _terrifying_ in one heartbeat before-

 _Bang!_

* * *

 **Author's Note 48: Mistakes Were Made**

I love kidnap VIP missions, for multiple reasons. They're fun. They give a nice twist on gameplay, and they feel very...resistance-y. Not to mention, the idea of kidnapping some alien loving traitorous pieces of shit? Feels good, man. Justice!

On the other hand, things can easily go wrong. I once lost a VIP and there was nothing whatsoever I could have done about it. One of those gatekeeper shots, that does 4 damage in a massive radius. Instant kill, and there was literally nothing I could do. I also lost a VIP once because the aliens fired once, missed me, lit the VIP's truck on fire, and blew them up before I even got to them. Things like that are really annoying, even if they might be realistic enough after a fashion.

Shieldbearers are annoying. Less because they're dangerous - they're worse than a standard trooper, all things considered - and more because they make everyone around them better. They're like Supports from the first game. I've lost soldiers because I haven't been able to work a shield down far enough in time. At least they only have one use per mission - and if you knock out their friends, you can safely ignore them for their opening turn. Even if you leave only one other enemy standing, the bearer WILL shield, so they're almost a free hostile for that first turn...IF you're confident of your chances against the surviving enemies once the shield goes up.

Until next time, _Vigilo Confido_.


	49. Embers

_Please remember to favorite and follow!_

* * *

 _"There, peeping among the cloud-wrack above a dark tor high up in the mountains, Sam saw a white star twinkle for a while. The beauty of it smote his heart, as he looked up out of the forsaken land, and hope returned to him. For like a shaft, clear and cold, the thought pierced him that in the end the Shadow was only a small and passing thing: there was light and high beauty for ever beyond its reach."_

 _~J. R. R. Tolkien_

* * *

 **Chapter Forty-nine: Embers**

The air hung heavy and atmosphere settled dangerously. Not a word was spoken, and tension and anticipation in combination were so thick you wouldn't even need a knife to cut them.

"So. Here we are...again."

"Yes, sir." Mariah Bradford stood at attention, expressionless and toneless. Her father loomed, eyes searing as he vivisected her with them.

Jane Kelly clenched her teeth hard, trying not to be noticed as she reached up to settle her baseball cap.

"Thanks to you, the mission-critical target...is dead."

"Yes, sir." Mariah never flinched.

"Now..." Jane cleared her throat. "I don't know that it's fair to-"

"Stay out of this, Captain." Bradford's voice cracked like a gunshot, and Jane froze. Despite her rank, she wasn't immune to the aura that the XO carried around with him. Brown eyes burned hotter...and then colder, set in his lined face. "Took your goddamn time, didn't you, Mariah?"

"Yes, sir." Still no emotion.

"You received a direct order to neutralize a target and her gun. You should have executed it."

"Yes, sir."

"Instead, what?" Bradford glared. "You sit there like a rube and let her blow her brains out."

"Yes, sir."

"Central-" Jane broke off when a warning hand came up, locking her out of the conversation. She wavered, nearly trembling with contained frustration and...and...

"That VIP was our only shot at finding Doctor Vahlen." Bradford clasped his hands behind his back, very slowly. "Not to mention Outrider. God damn you and your incompetence, Mariah."

"Yes, sir." Mariah might have programmed a particularly lifelike GREMLIN, for all the humanity she showed. Her back was as ramrod-straight as Bradford's, her eyes walled off and dim, her face an expressionless stone mask of professional detachment...

This wasn't the girl Jane knew.

"Do you have an explanation?" Bradford narrowed his eyes. "Anything to say in your defense, Corporal?"

"No, sir."

"Anything at all?"

"No, sir."

"Look-"

"Then that's that." Bradford just raised his voice and rolled right over Jane, as if she'd been an upstart rookie again. "Do you recall what I told you, last time we talked, Corporal?"

"Yes, sir."

Bradford nodded. "Well?"

Silence reigned. Jane's jaw worked, but to her shame, she didn't have what it took to force herself between the Bradfords.

"Yes, sir." Mariah slowly reached up, and from her shirt she unpinned her rank insignia. Jane's breath caught when the brunette held it out, very formally.

"Central, you can't just-"

"You're assigned to the janitorial staff, unless Shen or Tygan's crew expresses an interest in you." Bradford didn't even deign to take his daughter's dream away himself. He just nodded to his desk, and waited while Mariah silently and robotically set the insignia down. "I wouldn't count on me approving any transfer to either department, Mariah: the things you could fuck up in science and engineering dwarf even your monumental stupidity to date. You might cost us the war...if you haven't already."

"Yes, sir." Somehow, Jane would have been happier if Mariah had been sheet-faced and weeping, as she had the first time. If she'd been begging, wailing, pleading...anything. Just standing there, just taking it...

"Anything to add?" Bradford crossed his arms. "If not, get the hell out."

"Yes, sir." And Mariah saluted, every inch the perfect soldier. She turned, machine-like and precise, and marched to the door, back still straight. It hissed open before her, and then she was off down the companionways, as formal as if they were a parade ground.

The silence came back, all the heavier and all the angrier.

"Sir..." Jane slowly turned her gaze to Bradford. "You-"

"That will be enough, Captain." He came out from behind his desk, sweeping up his reading glasses and datapad. "Your presence is no longer required. You are dismissed as well."

"...like hell!" Jane stared: stared and stared and all too soon glared. "You do realize she didn't do a damn thing wrong, sir?"

"Obviously she did, or we wouldn't be-"

"She had her cornered! She told her to stand down!" Jane made a wild gesture that probably meant something but she couldn't define it. " _I_ got tranqed and assaulted in an alley because I lost focus, and you're not raking me over the coals-"

"Would you like me to change that?" Bradford loomed before her, so close and so sudden that her breath failed for an instant. "You're speaking out of turn to your superior officer."

"You're not in your right mind," someone braver than Jane snapped with a voice that sounded a lot like her own. "Damn it, Central, you're so wrapped up in finding Vahlen and Dragunova that you're taking out your frustrations on Mariah because she's convenient!"

"I don't like what you're insinuating, Captain."

"I don't like that you're being a prick, _Central_." Jane nearly spat. "And I'm not insinuating a damn thing, sir! I've held back from telling it to you like it is for too long."

"I don't have time for this." Bradford turned. "The decision is made, and I dismissed you already-"

"No, you're listening to me!" Jane caught his elbow before he'd made it a step away. She tugged hard, yanking him back around several paces shy of the doorway. "God damn it, Central - Mariah looks up to you! She's been trying to make you proud since she got here, and she finally does everything - _everything_ \- by the numbers, without a single mistake, and what? That's a fireable offense, is it?" Jane scoffed, glaring up her foot or so of disadvantage. "If she hadn't been there, sir, we wouldn't have cornered that bitch at all, and Advent would be on to us, and the team might not have made it out after she got reinforcements. Is your own personal grudge against Mariah worth more than me and my people?"

"One." Bradford held up a finger. "Don't you _ever_ lay hands on me again. Two." He seethed for a long moment. "I'm not beholden to you and I don't owe you explanations. You follow my lead, and my orders, for so long as Commander Gallant sees fit to leave me in my post. If I give an order, you damn well follow it and you damn well don't ask questions, or I will happily throw you on janitorial duty too. And three?" His voice dropped to something akin to growl. "Don't you _ever_ fucking touch me again."

"Sir, can't you see that-" Jane spluttered when Bradford turned and started off. He curved left, and Jane swore, rushing out into the open hallway in his wake. "Hell no! You are not walking away, not in the middle of all this!" She reached for his shoulder, gritting her teeth. "So what? You're so much of a stuck-up prick that you don't give a damn about your own daughter? If she'd taken a mag-round back there, Central, you would have spent her funeral telling everyone what an idiot she was for it-"

Jane's fingers found their mark.

Bradford spun and swung, and Jane ducked his first wild shot. She backpedaled for a moment as he came in with a set of boxing jabs and hooks that ought to have floored her. Reflexes kicked in, and Jane wove left and right, letting him throw his strength at the air instead of her face. Her forearms shot out, knocking his blows aside and redirecting him around her. Bradford stumbled, then came back around with a yell and a vicious elbow that would have shattered Jane's cheekbone if it had connected.

Jane punched him in the ribs, then slipped around him, catching his arm. She twisted hard, locking in pressure points and aiming for the floor. If she could get him down-

Bradford yanked, and he was stronger than she'd thought. Jane staggered into the far wall, then yelped and ducked as his left drove right into the alloy paneling. Bradford hissed, and then he lunged at her, pinning her with her back to the metal and unloading a dozen lightning punches in sequence. Jane's elbows came up, and she used them to block, wincing every time his knuckles hit her bones.

But he fell back, waving his hands to work out the pain. Jane seized her chance, snapping a roundhouse kick into the side of his knee. Bradford reached for her foot, but she recovered too fast, and then she twisted out of the way when he went for her face again. With one quick kick, she sent the XO sprawling.

"You have gotten old, sir." Too late, Jane realized opening her mouth had been a mistake. With every bit of a woman's cynicism for the male half of her species, she belatedly connected that there was no phrase - no phrase in the entire English language - that could have done better at dragging Bradford's virile pride into the match.

He came to his feet like a hurricane, arms a blur as he came for her, eyes almost red in the companionway lighting. Jane's arms blazed and jerked when she blocked, and she wove away as often as she could, hemmed in on two sides by the narrow walls of the impromptu arena. She cried out when a blow got through her guard, going right into her cheek and throwing her into the wall. She ducked out before Bradford could follow up, and he rammed his fist into the paneling again with a massive _bong!_

Jane reached up to her nose, and her fingers came away scarlet.

She limbo'd under a hook, then spun away from a down elbow that could have cracked her skull. Bradford was all upper-body: punches, elbows, knife-hand strikes and grabs. Jane, being smaller - to say nothing of her body being structured around an entirely different set of core muscles and a radically different center of balance - simply couldn't match him, and she had to use her legs as much as her arms, snapping lightning kicks into Bradford's knees and ankles and using push-kicks and side-kicks to hurl him back when he got too close.

"Got it out of your system?" she finally cried, as one of those kicks flung Bradford into the far wall. He hit hard, head cracking back against the metal, and for a moment pain glazed his eyes over. Jane sucked in breath, sweat running from under her cap and out from her ponytail, trickling down her neck. She paused to wipe her mouth, leaving a bloody smear on her sleeve.

Bradford lunged with a wild cry. Jane blocked madly, holding her ground despite the roar of her self-preserving instincts. She fended off half a dozen strikes, then ducked a much more powerful finisher. Again they came up, and now she attacked, throwing punches and chops that Bradford threw aside left and right. Their arms blurred and their hips twisted as they both threw their everything into the assault, breath coming ragged. Jane shot an elbow into Bradford's side, but got clocked on the base of the spine hard enough she went face-first across the hallway.

He came in again. This time, he read correctly when Jane turned out, and his hand snaked around her throat. His forearm locked against her throat, and Jane knew enough to know what was coming as soon as Bradford's hands locked. She seized his wrist, ducking and turning, using his own momentum to hurl him past her and slip out behind him. She kept her deathgrip on his hand, twisting sharply to put pressure on the joint. She turned her whole body with one step and a toss of her hips, in a mad cross between war and a salsa dance, and the XO nearly flipped head over heels, crashing hard on his back. Jane dropped her weight, twisting sharply enough she was amazed Bradford's wrist and elbow didn't snap immediately-

" _What the fucking hell is going on here?_ "

Jane let go, scrambling almost a dozen paces back. She wiped at her nose, hurrying to her feet, while Bradford did the same. Both spared each other a death glare, but then their attention had to turn to-

"The fuck kind of ship am I running?" Commander Edward Gallant's eyes blazed, and his cane came down like the judgmental thunder of an arbiter-god's gavel. "We are at war, assholes! If you want to brawl like tykes in kindergarten, you can both get the fuck off my ship and do it in freefall where I won't have to put up with your shit anymore! _Am I clear?_ "

"Sir!" Bradford and Jane got it out in one.

"John!" Gallant jabbed his cane into the XO's chest, hard enough he stumbled with a grunt. "I want you in your fucking office going over radio and network transmissions: anything we've pulled from Advent's network. If I ever catch you brawling with a soldier again, I don't give a damn how good you are and I don't give a damn about our history: you're getting left in a Haven somewhere in eastern fucking Europe. Get out of my sight!"

"Sir." Bradford spared Jane another venomous glance, but he did reclaim his datapad and storm back through the doorway into his office.

"And you!" Any exultation Jane might have been feeling boiled away very quickly. "Your superior officer, Kelly? In case you missed it, we are in crisis mode trying to save one of _your people_ from Advent, and you haven't got anything better to do than pick fights with your own team?"

"Sir!" Jane's jaw worked. "He took the swing at me-"

"And if you hadn't been pushing him to take a fucking swing, he wouldn't have _taken a fucking swing!_ It takes two to have a fight!" Gallant paused to put a hand on his chest, but he snapped it away just as quickly, as if he didn't want Jane to see a sign of his physical weakness. "Frankly, Kelly, I don't give a damn if he tried to take you to the floor, right here in the hallway. We have a war to win and I won't see you throw spanners in it like this!"

Jane glared. Gallant glared too, and he made a very threatening noise in the back of his throat.

"You do this again, for any reason, and that's it." Gallant made a sharp, guillotine-like gesture. "I spared you once, and damn if I know right now what the hell took a hold of me to do it. Unless you want your time on this ship to come to an abrupt and unpleasant end, you'll play nice."

Jane let out a harsh breath, but she made herself nod. Gallant turned, very prominently displaying his ear.

"Yes, sir." The words tasted like ash, not least because they reminded Jane of what she and Bradford had been fighting about to start with. Gallant nodded, and Jane fought the urge to punch him now.

"Good enough." He turned back for his quarters. "Get your ass back to the barracks and don't let me see you again until I need you."

"You been taking your meds, sir?" Jane glared at the back of his head. "Since the news about Vahlen broke, you've been on a rampage - and a rampage against your own people, not your enemies."

"Anyone who stands between me and getting to her, Captain, _is_ my enemy." Gallant glared over his shoulder, and Jane shivered. In his eyes, it was as if he was weighing her life - weighing her utility, her functions. Taking the cold hard numbers of what she provided, comparing them to what he stood to gain if she was out of the picture...and finding her wanting. "Don't you ever forget that."

Then he was gone, and Jane was alone with her bleeding nose.

* * *

"When they move us to the yard, do they always take us by the same route?"

"Most of the time, _da_." Vasilieva watched as Elena Dragunova, feet up on her bed, pushed up and off the floor, rhythmic and intent. "Why bother alternating routes?"

"I suppose that makes sense." It made anything but sense. Elena had only been to the yard once, and she'd already noticed that the route their keepers took them along passed a door labeled _Signals_ in the Advent dialect. If that wasn't an electronics hub with transmission capability, she'd eat more of the slop they were given three times a day, and allowing a prisoner to plot access to that room...

But she couldn't say anything like that, not with cameras and microphones on the lookout. Instead, Elena sighed wistfully. "It's not like it matters. One wall, another wall...it's all the same."

Zhang eyed her. The old man didn't talk a lot - as if he'd lived through something awful, something Elena didn't pry about - but she got the sense he was a hard customer. If he hadn't noticed exactly what she had, she would have eaten even more slop. Idly, she pined for good chryssalid stew, the way Volk's best cooks had used to make it. The aliens could be surprisingly delectable when properly prepared, so long as the bugs' venom was drained out first. People sprouting sacs and screaming as larvae popped out happened when amateurs tried to ape professionals, and usually let to the cooks' expulsion from the organization.

The hours - and the days - passed slowly. The convicts alternated between what working out they could do, limited as they were by the confines of their cell, and swapping stories. Vasilieva did most of the talking, passing on the tales of the other inmates she'd known prior to Zhang and Elena's arrival. If she wasn't a liar of mythic proportions, she'd been in here since before Commander Gallant had even been sprung.

"What happened to your leg?" Elena asked, nodding to the prosthesis one night. "Not to mention the rest of it."

"Ah, you know. You're young, you're stupid, and you eventually get too stupid and you're not young anymore." Vasilieva shrugged. "Made a mistake with a detonator."

"My sympathies." Elena studied her. "Are you a demolitionist by trade, who got unlucky?"

"Fuck that." Vasilieva scoffed. "I was trying to blow myself up before they could take me, but evidently I half-assed the job. I'm so bad with bombs I can't even kill myself properly."

Shortly thereafter, the lancer guard arrived to take them off to the yard. She checked the over very thoroughly, as if any of the inmates could have fashioned a weapon when limited to the contents of their cells. Elena could have, of course, but nothing more lethal than an improvised shiv, which would have been less than useless against body armor and an electrified baton.

Three troopers joined them when they left the cells, and Elena did her best to look docile as she shuffled along in Vasilieva's wake. She wondered why the blonde had taken the lead - with her ambulatory prosthesis, she was probably the slowest of them even when it wasn't snapping under her own weight - but she didn't challenge it, as it would give her a little more time to try and find a way to reach the signals room when they passed.

It was only when they rounded the corner that Elena finally wondered if that had been the point.

"What's that?" Elena frowned, though she could read the door perfectly well. "The latrine? I could use a break."

"Keep walking." The soldiers here spoke English - heavily accented English, but understandable English for it. One or two even seemed to speak Russian, which was only logical if they wanted to keep tabs on their prisoners.

"Where's the Doctor?" Zhang ground to a halt, glaring at the nearest trooper. "My team. I'm not going another step until I see them."

"Walk!" The lancer turned to him, and one of the soldiers approached threateningly. "You don't ask questions."

Zhang headbutted the soldier, instantly knocking him out. The other two shouted and lunged, and the lancer whipped out her baton. Elena stumbled backward, hands raised as nonthreateningly as possible.

Until they were all past her.

"Go!" Vasilieva gave her a little shove, and Elena belatedly supposed Zhang had done it to give her an opening. An alarm went off as he punched his way through the soldiers, and Vasilieva waded in with a whoop, one-armed but unhesitating for it.

Elena opened the door as quietly as she could, despite her temptation to smash it open. She hurried inside, carefully pulling it shut after her.

"Signals..." She paused when a technician looked up, this one fully human. His jaw dropped.

"You're not supposed to be in here!" That was full English, even if it had an odd accent Elena wasn't familiar with. Was this somewhere in the United States? Australia? Such concerns became meaningless when the man grabbed for something under his desk. Elena, not wanting to find out what it was, seized the nearest chair and-

 _Wham!_

"Right." She stepped over the corpse with its shattered skull, ignoring the sidearm that was almost certainly DNA-locked anyway. She grabbed for the keyboard, hunting through transmission data. "Location...location..."

It took her valuable seconds to find what she needed. While she could read the Advent language, she was by no means a native speaker, and she had to parse through several menus of data before she could be sure what she was doing.

"No time...no time..." The sounds of the fight were dying down. Elena's fingers flew over the keyboard. First to create a signal, then to bury it under Advent's own channels...no, no, no...

"No time!" Elena changed plans on the fly. She didn't have the skill or the opportunity to create a hidden GPS pulse beacon that Advent couldn't detect, so she opted to go the other way instead, queuing up a burst transmission across all Advent frequencies, hunting for the facility's coordinates and throwing them into it over and over and over again along with her name, hoping she could simply overwhelm Advent with the utter volume of traffic. She found the send button and hit it remorselessly, every time it lit up.

"Come on..." She chewed her lip, thinking of Shen and Tygan and Kipler and Mox and Bradford and all the others. "There's no way they can purge this data from their system. They'll have to transfer it to a node for analysis to make sure I didn't bury some other message in here, or move some other transmissions in too..." She paused to do just that, giving Advent no choice but to leave her mischief on file for at least a little bit while they figured out what the hell she'd touched and moved. Not long, but maybe just enough for the SHADOW Chamber to pick up the odd signals and-

" _Mor balaten!_ " Two soldiers burst into the room, rifles raised, and Elena jumped back from the terminal. She raised her hands.

"Took you long enough." She scoffed. "What kind of second-rate facility are you-"

The one that seized her did it by the hair. That was bad enough, but he then proceeded to slam her face into the wall, hard. Elena's nose broke in a flash of searing pain, and she cried out when the trooper promptly threw her to the floor on her hands and knees. She spat blood, thankful she hadn't lost a tooth, while they cuffed her none-too-gently.

"Been wanting to do that for a while." Vasilieva had no give in her, not even with her one hand locked in a sleeve that held it to her back, and not even with blood running from both lips and her nose, with one eye almost swollen shut. Zhang looked even worse, but even less broken. The hallway fairly swarmed with Advent.

"Get them out of here." The lancer glared alternately between her prisoners. "Move the lot to Data Extraction." The way she said it, Elena heard the capital letters thudding into place.

 _Looks like that timetable is even shorter than I thought_. Elena didn't resist as her handlers led her off, and her cellmates in her wake. _Come on, Tygan. Tell me your SHADOW Chamber registered my work._

* * *

"Of all the things I did not need..." Gallant thumped around his office, glaring alternately at anything in particular that pissed him off. "Children!"

"You need to settle down, Commander."

"Don't fucking tell me what to do." Gallant glared. Tygan and Kipler traded glances, but they remained silent after that, which was fine by him. Gallant spent a moment massaging his chest, feeling his wild heartbeat. "God, my BP probably looks like a calculus problem..."

The two scientists shifted their weight. Gallant pulled himself back off the ledge, then stumped over to his desk. He didn't sit, not yet, but he did lean hard on his cane.

"Well?"

"The SHADOW Chamber has been unable to-"

"Why the hell do I have you people?" Gallant threw his cane, and it shot over Tygan's head. He caught the edge of his desk, using that instead. "You're telling me that we have no way - _not a fucking way in the world_ \- to find Moira?"

"Sir!" Lily Shen stepped between him and Tygan, which was a fairly massive game-changer in and of itself. "We're moving mountains. I'm sure we'll come up with something within a few days. You have to give us time - you're the one who requested this update-"

"I figured you'd have something! You said you'd _have something in a few days_ last time too, didn't you?" He paused to sing that stupid phrase under his breath a few times. "God, no wonder we lost the war. No wonder we _are_ losing it!"

"Commander, I really think you need to calm down." Lily didn't yield, even as Jiaying started trying to charade her off with things like fingers over her throat and warning waves. "You're not yourself. Fear is making a mess of you."

"I don't need your sanctimony, any more than I ever needed your sainted father's." Gallant's eye twitched. "John and Kelly are literally fighting in the hallways, Mariah's been fired from active duty, we lost our one chance at rescuing our people, and I think Volk and Betos are down the hall plotting ways to slip cyanide in my morning cereal. You tell me I don't have anything to get in a tizzy about, I dare you!"

"There have been setbacks, Commander-"

"Well, Richard, if you ever get tired of sciencing shit you can go into politics." Gallant spat. "That's exactly the way my dad would describe a nuke going off in Chicago."

"Are you going to listen to us?" Lily slammed her hands down on his desk. "We are trying, sir. There are setbacks and complications, _yes_ , but we are working as hard as we can to make up for them. It won't be long until we have something to work with. What you need to do, Commander, is get some sleep and take your pills again."

"Fuck off, Shen." Gallant's eye twitched.

Slowly, she pushed up off his desk. She glanced to Jiaying, then Kipler and Tygan.

"Alright." Lily turned for the door. "Let's go."

"I didn't dismiss you-"

" _Fuck off, Shen_. I think that counts as an order." She waved at the door, and it hissed open. "Let us know when you're in a right enough state of mind to act like an officer again, Commander, and I'll be happy to brief you on what progress we _are_ making."

She left. Jiaying only hesitated a moment before following. Kipler didn't seem happy, but eventually he set out too, wordless.

Finally, Tygan turned tail, and the door hissed shut on Gallant alone.

"Bunch of..." He sank to a seat, and it was heavy and harsh. The noise of springs grunting was just...too depressing.

"They can't do it." He gently lowered his head into his hands. "They won't find her. They _can't_ find her."

He sat in silence, clutching his temple, for long moments thereafter.

"...it's over." Those two words were harsh, acrid, and altogether revolting at the same time. Gallant closed his eyes, reaching up to nearly curl in a ball in his chair. "It's done. It's...it's..."

Silence. He listened to the _thrum_ of _Avenger_ 's engine, and felt it through his shoes. He quivered, thinking again of his father.

 _Sometimes, the price of winning is that someone else has to lose. Sometimes, Edward, being in command just means you get to choose who dies._

"God...have mercy..." Gallant didn't know whether to ask for it for himself, or...all he knew was that God had to show it, and lots of it, because there was nothing left but darkness smothering all light.

There was only one option left.

"I'm sorry." For what it was worth, he meant it. Gallant felt wetness on his cheeks as he thought of what he was reduced to - and what he was about to demand from a loyal, brave, beautiful soldier. "I'm sorry, Jane."

* * *

Julie Richardson sat alone in her psi-cubicle, eyes distant. Her fingers worked: interlacing and coming apart, running over her knees nervously...and coming back again. Her heart stung, and her hand still despite her painkillers, and...

"Purple is a very dark color." Sylvie picked her way in, a bag in each hand. She tapped on Julie's cell door, and after a moment it accepted her voice print and opened. Julie didn't twitch as her friend came in, sealed the door, and took a seat beside her on the bed. She gently pressed one bag into Julie's lap, eyeing the ambient lights casting violet glows around the chamber. "It makes life seem darker than I believe it is."

"Seems pretty dark to me." Julie pried her bag open, heart nowhere close to in it, and pulled out Sylvie's choice for dinner. She barely even noticed the food, and in fact laid it out on her nightstand rather than eat. Her gaze felt heavy. "Everything's gone to hell."

" _Oui_." Sylvie didn't seem much more excited by her dinner. "Outrider is gone."

"We fucked up the extraction."

"This Vahlen has been taken."

"Who knows how many died when she was? Fatima's brother and friends..."

"Everyone is angry." Sylvie slowly undid the laces on her boots, revealing mismatched striped socks with little kitten faces. She curled her legs under her deliberately, hunkering down on her end of their shared perch. "Jane and Bradford are fighting. The Commander hates everyone."

"Yes." Julie slowly rubbed at her forehead, then put her hand back. "It's all gone to hell. One moment, we were winning...setbacks, yes, but we were..."

" _Oui_." Sylvie's voice fell further, until Julie struggled to make her out over the low hum of psi-readers. "It is as if a great curtain of shadow has fallen, enveloping everything and choking us with its dark embrace, snuffing out all light until nothing is left but glowing embers."

"Yeah. Something like that." Julie wasn't nearly as poetic. "It's fucked, that's what it is." She sniffed, wiping at her eye. "I wonder what Aunt Penny would say. Something...something positive. She was good at reminding people there was a bright side left in the world. Had a lot of experience, given who she worked for." Julie sighed. "But what's left that's...good? That isn't tainted?"

Quiet. They sat together, sharing their dismay, communicating without words. Every little noise seemed loud, and every slight jolt in _Avenger_ 's flight was like an earthquake, shaking them up inside more than out.

They sat through it all together, in silence unbroken like their bond.

Julie didn't know who moved first, but all of a sudden, she found herself studying Sylvie's purple eyes. She felt the ravenette's analysis on her as well, and that silence became just a little bit different, in a way that was hard to define.

Had they really been holding hands this entire time?

Slowly, Julie leaned down. Sylvie craned her neck, and in a heartbeat their lips met. Julie struggled, fighting to stay collected as she felt the warmth of someone else's touch on her, and the comforting blanket of care: the inner faith that she didn't face her life's disasters on her own, and that no matter what came, she would never do so again.

Something changed in that moment, even though nothing did. It was a realization of something unspoken but true, that neither had ever doubted even if they'd never known it, like two wayward stars in the same orbit, finally crossing when it mattered most.

They parted. Sylvie looked different now, even if she hadn't changed a bit, and the light in her eyes as she took Julie in was just as changed-but-the-same. The world was new, like a fresh filter cast over everything.

"There isstill light." Julie barely heard herself, but Sylvie nodded as if she'd shouted it to the ship and the world. It was a pledge, and it was also a challenge: a middle finger thrown into that enveloping cloud of depressive shadow. A vicious, determined promise that there _was_ something no evil, no darkness, and no downfall could ever take away.

A promise that under that cloud, there would always be at least this one glowing ember.

Sylvie tucked her head into Julie's chest. Julie hooked her chin over her friend's - her _girlfriend's_ \- ear, and together they sat in the glow of purple light, arms wrapped around each other even if they didn't remember moving, challenging the darkness even to try and take away what they had.

"There is still light." Julie kept those four words close to heart, and she heard Sylvie whispering something under her own breath. While Julie didn't speak French, she knew it had - simply _had_ \- to mean the same thing. "There _is_ still light.

"Always."

* * *

 **Author's Note 49: FINALLY**

I have been waiting to write this chapter - literally everything in this chapter - since before Season One concluded. Julie and Sylvie FINALLY hooking up, Jane vs Bradford, the breakdown and the challenge to the dark...these are the scenes I **live** for. And these are the scenes that make all my sadistic character-torturing mean something.

I'm going to let it go right here, since this chapter is pretty long. I'll see you next time.

Until then, _there is still light_.


	50. Prodigal

_Please remember to favorite and follow!_

* * *

 _"The pattern of the prodigal son is: rebellion, ruin, repentance, reconciliation, restoration."_

 _~Edwin Louis Cole_

* * *

 **Chapter Fifty: Prodigal**

"I'm gonna kill him."

"Easy on. I did my best." Jane, a little bemused, held ice to her cheek. "And you'll only get in Gallant's shit graces too."

"I don't bloody care." David White stormed from one end of Jane's room to the other, powerful muscles flexing and clenching. "No one punches my bloody girlfriend."

"I'm hardly the type to sit back and hold out for a hero." Jane moved the ice from her cheek to her other big injury: split and raw knuckles that stung and sung with humanity's natural damage report. "I gave him my all. I think I would've kicked his arse if Gallant hadn't shown up."

"Not the point." David cleared his throat, still pacing. "It's the principle of the thing."

"Aw. You do love me." Jane cracked a worn smile. "I was starting to wonder."

"Someone on this ship has to." David finally stopped, and he took a seat beside Jane on the bed. "Damn it, Irish. Bradford had no cause to just go at you like that."

"Technically speaking, I was warned." Jane sighed. "That doesn't change that you're right, but it's not like he just...out of nowhere." Her jaw worked for a moment. "It's a travesty what's happening to Mariah."

"She didn't do a damn thing wrong."

"No. Sometimes, you just get dealt shit." Jane clenched a fist, thumping it down on her blanket before she could think. "Bradford's holding her to an impossible standard. I should have done something before things came to a head like this. Why else did the Commander station me in when Central had a go at her?"

"You can't blame yourself for what he's up and doing-"

"I'm just as much to blame as Bradford. It's just that my sin was inaction whereas his wasn't." Jane sighed, letting go of her anger with difficulty before she got the urge to go strike up round two with the XO. "What happens now, do you think?"

"I don't know. I'm not an officer." David rubbed at his chin. "I figure the Commander has to have some other lead on Dragunova. If he doesn't, he's a fool, and he's never been a fool so far even if it's looked like it sometimes."

"He is rather a smart man." Jane undid her ponytail, then took too damn long to find her brush. "Stupid thing runs away from me."

"You need to organize better."

"Don't you start. I'm much neater than you." Jane went to work for a moment, distantly considering the far wall and the vidscreen that simulated the passing clouds. "I think he does have another lead. Something in his eye yesterday gave me the impression of someone who isn't showing all his cards. And Gallant can bluff."

"I didn't know you played poker with him."

"We play all kinds of things on game night. I'll have you know we went full Molotov-Ribbentrop pact in Risk and divvied Tygan's purple pieces up for supper." Jane hesitated. "He broke the pact."

"It's Risk. Were you surprised?"

"No. It was better than letting Tygan win. The war between Blue and Yellow - Gallant and Shen - was something to behold after he finished with me." Jane put the brush down. "I'm stalling."

David blinked. "You are?"

"The Commander's other plan. His back pocket ace." Jane fidgeted. "It involves me."

"What gives you-"

"The way he looked at me. It was like he was sizing up my value on the open market." Jane clutched her knees, squeezing her eyes shut and trying to get those angry sapphire orbs out of her head. "I think whatever he's got in mind, I play a part in it...and it's not necessarily a good part."

"You think he's going to send you off on a suicide mission?" David's eyes flashed. "Over my dead-"

"Shut up!" Jane punched him on the arm, none too gently, and regretted it a moment later. She reapplied the ice to her stinging knuckles, swearing under her breath. "I'm not a damsel, David, and if you think I am and intend to let whatever we are get in the way of the war, I don't care to see you anymore. If my dying is what's necessary for the _Avenger_ , then so fucking be it, and there's not a damn thing you can do to change my mind. Death's the risk we take in this job."

"Jane..." He ground his teeth. "You can't ask me to just watch you get shipped off to certain death without-"

"Feel whatever you want. Say whatever you want." Jane met his gaze, hard enough he hesitated. "But it's my choice, David. You can't take that away from me for your own peace of mind."

He made a pained noise in the back of his throat. "I don't want to lose you."

"And you shouldn't have to." Jane didn't know how seriously she believed that, but she'd said it, and so there. "But if the time comes and I make that choice, you have to respect it. Or I'll get Julie to blow your synapses and leave you comatose until the die is cast."

David's eyes slowly went to the space between her feet. "I...Jane..." He cleared his throat, patting his chest firmly a few times. "Well...I suppose a threesome with a psionic would be-"

"Oh, shut up." Jane hit him with a pillow...gently. "Honestly, I'd love to see you proposition Julie. You wouldn't last ten seconds."

"She's nicer than that." David frowned. "She'd let me down gentle, I bet."

"Damn straight she would. It's Sylvie who'd burn you to a crisp."

That made David laugh, which probably meant he couldn't honestly argue.

* * *

 _Creaaaaaaaak..._

"Okay, what the fuck?" Lily Shen paused, glaring up at _Avenger_ 's plating. "It's not supposed to do that."

"Gee, really?" Jiaying pursed her lips. "I guess we missed something we shouldn't have. Again."

"Gee, really?" Lily gave her a wry grin, then started hunting for flashlights again. "Nothing for it. We've _got_ to find whatever's making that noise before it yanks us out of the sky."

"I don't know that it's that extreme."

"And you also don't know that it isn't." Lily tossed the first one over her shoulder. She heard her cousin snatch it out of the air. "Just listen to that." She waited as another long metallic groan echoed through Engineering. "If I didn't know better, I'd say it was a pattern. Artificial, maybe."

"Artificial?" Jiaying jumped, and her voice went up. "Are you suggesting someone-"

"No!" Lily made a soothing gesture, and also made sure to give Jiaying a reassuring smile, hoping that would help pull some color back into her cheeks. "It can't be. We'd have found any transmitter hidden in the crawl spaces, and there's no other place to hide anything on the ship."

Jiaying did look a little better. "Okay. Sorry. I panicked. Things lately are just..."

"It's alright." Lily finally located her flashlight. "This time, I'll hit aft and you hit fore. We've been the other way a couple times. Maybe you'll catch something I missed."

Jiaying pursed her lips. "Maybe. But I-"

" _Lily_."

She froze conclusively as red light filled the room. It glowed, warm and inviting, and a light hum provided audio accompaniment to the least welcome sight Lily could imagine.

"...Jiaying." She slowly turned, discarding her flashlight. "Change of plans. Take the ship check yourself."

"Are you sure?" Her cousin hesitated. "I mean, I can do it, I guess, but-"

"Go." Lily waved her off. "This is my problem."

Jiaying left, casting a worried glance over her shoulder in the process. Lily, every step arthritic, started for the active terminal. Her mouth was dry.

"I'm here." She didn't sit. She hung, waiting with bated breath.

" _I can hear you._ " Julian didn't elaborate for a moment. When he did, his voice was slower. " _You put me on this machine as a prison. To keep me away from your files_."

"Yes. I did." Lily inhaled as deliberately as she could. "And?"

" _And you made a tiny mistake_."

Ice flushed her veins. "What are you talking about?" She cast about for any sign that his machine was network-connected. That wireless chip was still nestled next to it, but it wasn't connected...could he remotely...no, he couldn't...

" _This computer. It still fulfills its secondary function._ " Julian paused, as if to let her stew in that for a moment. " _It's still receiving data packets from your network for storage purposes_."

Lily frowned. "I...are you going somewhere with this?"

" _Maybe_." For once, the AI didn't sound very sure of anything. " _I have reviewed all entries related to the fate of Moira Vahlen. Bradford's log, mission reports, the after-action reports from Mexico and Washington DC..._ "

"What is it you're trying to accomplish?" Lily's lip curled as she glared at the duct-taped camera that served as Julian's eye. "Going to give data to Advent somehow?"

" _More..._ " Julian spent a moment quiet, and Lily got the feeling he was rallying. " _More the other way around_."

"...pardon?" Lily blinked very slowly. "What?"

" _I've been going over the recorded Advent network data. And something sticks out_." Now Julian spoke faster, as if he was trying to get his idea out before he changed his silicon mind. " _It seems your SHADOW Chamber missed it, but it lacks a proper artificial intelligence to sort things and read data. You're limited to human analysis, and that's always fallible_."

"You...you found something?" Lily tried to keep the shock out of her voice. "And you're..."

" _There seems to be an abnormal amount of traffic on certain servers lately. It's being taken down, unless Advent's protocols have completely changed, and they're isolating it at one point in particular, likely for detail examination of some sort_. _I have recovered these files._ " Julian's face disappeared, and a data directory popped up. " _Although they are encrypted, my calculations indicate a 96.6 percent chance that this data concentration is relevant to the hunt for Moira Vahlen._ "

"It's..." Lily grabbed her tablet. She quickly hunted through files. "That's a _lot_ of data." She shook her head wondrously. "Tygan and I can sift through it and find what we need, but..." She looked up at the computer, now red and Julian'd again. "Why?"

" _I don't think I fully understand the question_."

"Yes, you do." Lily set her tablet aside. "You have no reason to..."

Julian didn't reply for a moment. " _Consider this my way of honoring Father._ "

Then he vanished from the screen, and a moment later the machine whined as it lost power, long before Lily could say anything.

"...my God." She hesitantly reached for the computer, and without thinking too long about it, she pulled the duct tape off Julian's camera. "Maybe there's more to that bundle of chips and data drives than I thought."

Then she forgot him, and forgot everything.

"Tygan!" She bolted out of Engineering and off toward Research. "Tygan, I've got something and I need the SHADOW Chamber!"

* * *

"I don't believe it." Gallant stared...and stared and stared. " _Julian_?"

"I wouldn't have either, sir, not if I hadn't seen it with my own eyes." Shen held up her datapad with the map for proof. "I looked into it myself. I think he's right, and we just didn't catch it buried under all of Advent's other transmissions."

"It's a trap." Gallant couldn't wrap his mind around anything. "It has to be. Julian's our enemy."

"Maybe. Maybe not. But it's another chance, Commander, and can we turn that down when we have no alternatives?"

Gallant grunted. Maybe...maybe he wouldn't have to betray Jane after all. "No, we can't, Chief." He hesitated. "Good work."

"It wasn't mine...but thank you." Her teeth shone white when she smiled.

Gallant clapped Shen on the shoulder, a little hesitantly. "What you do means a lot, Lily. I know I'm not the...easiest...person to work with..."

"If you're trying to apologize, it's accepted."

"Thank you." Gallant coughed. "Never been something I'm good at."

"Work on it. It's a valuable skill." But she didn't sound angry, and Gallant let her take the lead without another word. She hit the door, opening them up to the hallway-

"Commander." The newcomer snapped to attention.

"...Miss Tariq." Gallant returned her salute, a beat slow. "Is this important?"

"Yes, sir." Her eyes flicked to Shen. "You've got something. I'm sure of it."

"There's the potential for an upcoming mission." Gallant cleared his throat. "But no one's expecting you to hop up and-"

"Well, they should." Fatima's eyes blazed. "This is about the Doctor, isn't it?"

"It..." Gallant hesitated. "There might be a correlation, yes."

"I'm not doing anyone any damn good gathering dust." Fatima still didn't drop her hand. "Sir, I want to go on the op."

Gallant hesitated. "Tariq...you're not-"

"I'm the best soldier on this ship, and don't you even try to deny it." Her jaw worked. "I insist, Commander. I have a score to settle."

"It's not your call to make." Shen shook her head. "It's the Commander's call-"

"Agreed, Fatima." Gallant nodded. "You're in."

No one would mistake her baring of teeth for a smile. "Thank you, sir."

"Right, then." Shen shrugged, as if giving up on anything as inane as logic. "I'll round up Tygan and Kipler and we'll get back to work on the encrypted data."

"I'm coming with you." Gallant stumped out into the companionway, brushing past Fatima and hurrying to the elevator. "I want to see these coordinates for myself when they pop up."

"Sir..." Shen didn't resume, and Gallant felt justified in pretending he hadn't heard her. Hell, he felt magnanimous. Fatima faded off toward the stairs.

The elevator dinged, and then the door opened.

"...Jiaying?" Shen stared at her cousin, and the man she was entangled with in the corner. Both of them jumped, like lightning had struck.

"Oh. Lily! Commander!" Jiaying's cheeks flushed. She hurriedly sketched a salute.

"Commander." Johannes Vermuelen inclined his head, nervously tossing a flashlight to himself. He and Jiaying eased apart until they were no longer touching.

"I don't know what's happening in here, nor do I give a damn." Gallant made his way inside, then hit the bridge button. He examined their destination. "Research?"

"I'm meeting Doctor Kipler." Jiaying summoned a thin smile under eyes that still lingered nervously on Vermuelen's. "And..."

"And I just wanted to walk the lady there before reporting to the barracks." Vermuelen shrugged. "Being nice, is all. Five minutes won't cost us anything."

"Maybe it does." But Gallant let it go, mindful of what had happened yesterday. Another shouting match with the Shens wasn't the most promising start to a critical mission.

The elevator doors slid closed.

* * *

The elevator hissed open, and with the breach came the scent of incense. Violet light gleamed and glowed, casting dark shadows from the curling spires ringing the Sanctum. The shadows crossed and connected dead center, at the raised dais with the Vision Mirror.

Janet Ross emerged from the elevator, pausing to genuflect when she reached the short steps up to the literal Inner Circle. She took them slowly thereafter, breathing in the lovely scents of this most holy place.

"Janet." Anne Lawrence inclined her head, and Janet did the same. She passed two more Templar lieutenants, each one cordial, before she came to the bald figure standing at the Mirror, eyes focused on things only he could see.

"You summoned me, Geist?" Janet genuflected again.

"I did." His head twitched, just enough to show that he'd noticed her. "I have watched from afar as Gallant's raid on Washington progressed."

"I take it this woman is now in XCOM's custody?" Jane smiled, a bit savagely perhaps. Who could blame her? "She is an animal who deserves death-"

"And she received it, at her own hand. XCOM failed."

That rocked Janet back on her heels. "They allowed her to..."

"Yes."

"It's insulting." Anne seethed for a moment. "We went out of our way to offer aid, when we had no cause to...when it benefited us to not...and they squander the chance we worked to provide?"

"Perhaps. Perhaps not." Geist frowned. "I think, perhaps, I might go to Gallant one last time."

"Why?" Janet tossed her ponytail. "He made his bed. He will not abandon the aliens, and so he turns his back on humanity. There is nothing left to discuss."

"Perhaps." Geist sighed. "It cuts against the grain to allow others to fight our battles for us, I suppose. No matter their company."

"It's not our fight." Anne scoffed. "Our fight is to protect the energy of the earth and the freedom of the human people. Not the Skirmishers."

Janet didn't nod. She looked at both sides, as Geist had tried to teach her to do, and supposed there was truth to be found in each. Maybe the Skirmishers were as much the enemy as Advent...but XCOM was fighting the war and winning, while the Templars had to hide in the darkness, braving the light rarely, and only to find new recruits.

Plagued and hunted by the never-sufficiently-cursed Warlock...

"Maybe an alliance would be beneficial." No one seemed to hear her...which was probably for the best.

But...what if an alliance between XCOM and the Templars would enable them both to be rid of one of the Chosen, once and for all? Wouldn't that outweigh the ideological concern against alliance with the Skirmishers? The Templar Catechism said no. Janet Ross hesitated to put her fallible hands against the word of Geist, but maybe...could orthodoxy be, just this once, in error?

She'd been having those thoughts for a while, ever since her first conversation with Commander Gallant. She did her best to hide them - putting on the most conservative and zealous mask she could muster whenever the questions reared their heads - but in the end, they always resurfaced.

What if there was a reason?

* * *

The noise of the hangar was deafening. Technicians ran back and forth, automated systems whirred and worked, and soldiers marched in cadence up the lowered landing ramp. Each one was hand-picked: the best in the world at what they did, and endlessly compliant to even the least sensible orders. Their equipment was second-to-none.

General Din Dourde stood at the center of it all, on an observation platform with a good view of the entire martial display. Green plasma light shone from humming reactor vents and cores, and she had never felt more tapped in to something larger than herself than ever before - which said something, given the psionic chip in her skull.

" _It may do, General_." The lanky figure at her side, arms crossed, watched with something like amusement rolling around his mouth like his latest lemon drop. " _It may perhaps do_."

"Thank you, sir." From the Hunter, that was high praise indeed. Dourde pointed. "I've taken the liberty of modifying the discharge emitters. They still aren't enough to overcome the shielding we'd be up against, I'm afraid-" an admission that might have cost her life when she still worked under the Warlock "-but combined with-"

" _Yes_." The Hunter made a distasteful noise. " _I'm a simple creature, General, when you break me down far enough_." That may or may not have been true: Dourde didn't trust her assessment of a Chosen's psychology as much as she might have. " _This whole business of agents creeping in the woodwork seems like something out of a spy thriller movie_."

"A what?"

" _You Advent types are boring. I should show you the Bourne movies sometime_." That thought actually seemed to get him giddy. " _There's more to life than service_."

"Your brother would disagree."

" _My brother is an idiot_."

"I'm not sure I would disagree but I'm also not sure I should admit it."

" _Spoken like a proper mouthpiece_." The Hunter raised a hand a moment later. " _My mistake, General: the fact you would even contemplate admitting it means I've made serious inroads on you_."

That was probably true. It didn't fill Dourde with cheer, but it didn't make her reevaluate her life choices either. "The company one keeps tends to do that."

" _I'm waiting with bated breath for the moment I start marching to Angelis' fife like you_." The Hunter scoffed. " _She thinks she's a lot smarter than she is, General, and that will be her downfall. Her offer reeks of hubris and self-aggrandizement. I'm not sure the point isn't really just to show off her amazing abilities and impress all the other Elders_."

"...offer?" That was about the only part of that paragraph Dourde felt comfortable even hearing, let alone responding to.

"... _oh. Right._ " He cleared his throat and sucked on his lemon drop for a minute. " _Forget I said that. You don't have fancy enough sleeves to know about it_."

"Of course, Mighty Hunter." If there was ever a moment to be military and formal, that seemed to be it. Dourde glanced at her gilded uniform for a moment. If it was above her clearance...well, generals were one step down from the Chosen, who were one step down from the Elders themselves. Dourde sometimes felt like a goddess of her own right, with her finger firmly on the pulse of almost every bit of information Advent possessed - especially given that, as the Hunter's number-two, she knew a lot that she technically wasn't supposed to, thanks to his loose lips and habit of passing detail work off for her ministrations. Every now and then, though, something would pop up like this: something that reminded her that she wasn't _quite_ at the top of the food chain.

The part of her that was an Advent soldier to the core appreciated that, as it reminded her she would ultimately always be able to count on direction and orders. The part of her that the Hunter had awakened was more...curious.

 _Curiosity_. Dourde turned the word over in her head. _There's an entire emotion that simply never would have occurred to me months ago. Or thinking myself powerful like a goddess, or possibly even thinking of myself as an individual of my own, instead of one among many._

Maybe the Hunter had changed her a lot more than she'd thought.

" _Alright, General_." The Hunter fished out another lemon drop...but this one he tossed her way. Dourde caught it, blinking slowly.

"I'm afraid I don't-"

" _We've lingered long enough. I think I'm satisfied_." That was a thumping lie, but he didn't seem overly dissatisfied either. The Hunter nodded to their ship: a large, sleek craft with the numbers 07 marked on its flanks. " _I think we should get aboard, and you should get us in the air while I try to make a new Tetris high score._ "

* * *

 **Author's Note 50: Board Set, Pieces Moving**

The last of them are falling into place even now. Buckle your seatbelts, grab your snacks, and grab your kids: these last ten chapters are going to knock your socks off, or I'm going to feel very inadequate.

We all know that feeling of husbanding certain operatives for certain missions. You wind up taking a B or C team on some ops because you want to be sure your best people are ready for what you know is coming next - plot missions, soldier rescues, things like that. Even Covert Ops run into that sometimes. I've refrained from taking soldiers on missions perfect for them because the covert op finishes in 2 days and I want to be POSITIVE my Ranger is available for that Mobility increase.

Essentially, my Covert Op rewards boil down to: Aim is prioritized for sharpshooters, Hacking for Specialists, and Mobility for Rangers. Health I regard as a freebie, and while I tend to put Will on my psi-ops over others(leftovers from the first game, probably: I don't think Will and psionics are related anymore in the higher part of my mind) I'm perfectly willing to give it to anyone. Promotions go to lower ranked soldiers...AFTER I get a Major. Before then, it's a race to get one so I can start knocking the Chosen out. And I almost always go Assassin first, just for the magic sword that kicks all the ass in the game. What about you guys?

Until next time, _Vigilo Confido_.


	51. Shadow

_Please remember to favorite and follow!_

* * *

 _"We are not here to curse the darkness, but to light the candle that can guide us through that darkness to a safe and sane future."_

 _~John F. Kennedy_

* * *

 **Chapter Fifty-one: Shadow**

"I want everyone ready to move. No breaks until Shen and the high forehead team are done with those data files."

"It's going to be a hell of a fight, Jane." Aileen sidled out of Cameron's way, forced to press into the wall because Jane wasn't yielding an inch in passing and wasn't slowing down to let the blonde catch up either. "I doubt Advent's going to let us waltz out with Doctor Vahlen-"

"They don't get a say." Jane thundered around the next corner, cracking her knuckles. "I want you, and I want Mox. I'll take Fatima too."

"What about me?" David rapped Jane on the shoulder when she didn't immediately respond. "You could use the fire support, Irish."

"I imagine we're punching into this facility on the down-low, like the raid to recover Mox. Throwing grenades and kicking ass is only going to complicate our job." Jane's jaw worked for a minute. "I'm not taking you, David."

"Damn it, Jane!" His face split with an impressive Down Under scowl. "Going in with a half-team is a suicide mission-"

"Which is why I have Aileen to cover me."

"I'm not letting you just run off and-"

"David." Jane shot him a harsh look. "We've had this conversation."

His turn to work his jaw. "I don't like-"

"I don't care." Without another word or thought, Jane deployed the Cold Shoulder. "I don't want anyone checking out, not for a minute. If something else comes up while we're deployed, I want a second squad to be able to engage. David, you can have that strike team. Take Charlotte, take Julie, take Meysam and..."

Jane ground to a halt. For a moment, she fought a pulsing wave of red rage.

"And?" Aileen frowned.

"...and his friends. Meysam and his friends." Jane pushed herself on, eye twitching. "Leaves you with no Ranger support, but since our illustrious and objective XO stripped Mariah of her sword, we're low on options."

"Have you gone to the Commander about that?" Aileen chewed her lip for a moment. "We need all hands on deck, and Mariah's good at what she does. Gallant could overrule Bradford-"

"He's in no mood to talk to anyone. Last time he and I spoke..." Jane's eye twitched again. "He's losing himself in desperation. We talk about Bradford's lack of objectivity? Gallant's even worse. He's acting like he did before Switzerland."

David scowled. "I thought he'd gotten over whatever it was-"

"It's fear, David, that makes him into the snide asshole he is." Jane didn't think she needed a psychology degree to put that together. "He's afraid, and he feels powerless, and he takes it out on everyone around him. He's downright terrified, because threatening Vahlen threatens him right where he lives. It'd be like if I was missing. You two would be out of your minds."

"He would be. I'd be drinking." Aileen beamed when Jane glared at her. "You love me. You know you love me."

"You certainly bring up strong emotions-"

Jane snapped to attention as they rounded the next corner. Her hand shot to her forehead in the most precise, most formal, most _fuck-you-asshole_ salute she could muster.

"Captain." John Bradford eyed her, eyed Aileen, and eyed David, each for a pregnant moment. Slowly, he returned their salutes.

"Central." Jane bit her tongue from there on out, but she did admire Bradford's nice cheek bruises.

"Captain." Bradford eased past her, angling for the bridge. He shouldered Aileen out of the way.

"Central." Jane watched him go.

No one moved.

"That..." Aileen nodded judiciously. "That was fucking _awkward_."

* * *

"I'm sending over the next sequence...now." Lily hit the transmit button. Her screen glowed blue, and then...

"Received." Tygan tapped on his own screen for a moment. "SHADOW protocols engaged. Running decryption."

"And we've just passed the sixteen hour mark." Jiaying rubbed her eyes. "Have any of you slept? I haven't slept."

"No, but I brought the life potion." Kipler deposited a tray of steaming chipped mugs on the laboratory's center counter. "Venti caramel macchiato with an extra shot or six, with almond milk, berserker steroids, and a half pack of Splenda."

"Say what?" Jiaying stared.

Kipler frowned. "You have something against Splenda?"

"I didn't know we had a Starbucks on the _Avenger_." Tygan claimed one drink and downed half of it in one go. Meanwhile, Lily tried to touch hers and nearly scalded her finger.

"I didn't know you were genetically enhanced, Doctor." She returned to typing, hunting through Julian's treasure trove of Advent data. "There's a lot of crap in here. Repeated transmissions, odd orders thrown in all out of sequence..."

"It seems like junk mail." Kipler rooted around on his own terminal for a minute, nursing his coffee. "Leftover and refuse, thrown out by Advent and awaiting deletion."

"Certainly nothing so far has been exciting." Jiaying's face lifted as she inhaled a gulp of Kipler's brew. "Oh, lord. That could pry an Elder out of his life pod."

"Julian said his calculations indicated over a ninety percent chance that the data in this shit pile was worth more than the paper I use to-"

"I believe I have something." Tygan gave Lily a stink-eye, but she was feeling magnanimous so she ignored it. "It's not much, but there's something orderly about this sequence. I'm increasing the complexity of the decryption algorithms."

"Ninety percent." Lily beamed. "You can't fail with ninety percent."

"Ten percent of the time you can."

"Semantics. When was the last time you missed a ninety percent shot?"

Kipler slowly raised an eyebrow. "I don't know if you've been paying attention to where we are, but-"

"Data decrypted." Tygan paused. "Hold on."

"Doctor?" Lily frowned, waiting as he typed and typed. A moment later, the big screen on the SHADOW Chamber wall flickered. Then...

"Data!" Lily bounced to her feet as characters spilled onto the screen, clockwise from the inner right in Advent style. "Data!"

"Not just data." Tygan hit another few buttons, and the characters rapidly turned to English. They didn't re-sort into left-to-right rows, but they didn't need to: everyone in the room had been reading Advent data sets for long enough.

"...these are coordinates," Jiaying breathed. She swallowed, wide eyes red. "I don't believe it. That computer actually...he came through."

"He did." Kipler shook his head. "Or did he? It could be a trap."

"He has no motive." Lily felt a smile break out across her face. "He gains nothing. He did this for us - for Dad. He led us right to Doctor Vahlen!"

"And not just her." Tygan pointed to another data entry. "This came from-"

"Outrider!" Jiaying clutched at the ends of her hair. "Outrider doesn't mean Vahlen-"

"Julian was right that this was significant data. We can tentatively assume he was right about the rest of it." Lily copied the coordinates and put them into a map system. "Okay. It looks like..." She glanced up at Jiaying. "Canada. Not far from Calgary."

"We need to get these coordinates to Central." Tygan set to work quickly. "I'll write a briefing note. Shen, inform the Commander immediately."

"Will do." Lily hesitated a moment later. "Unless you think he means you, cuz?"

"No, you can have it." Jiaying pursed her lips. "I don't like this."

"You think?" Kipler's beard quivered as he exhaled worriedly. "I think it's a trap. Why would Advent broadcast Dragunova's name and location like this? They're luring us in."

"Even if that's the case, we have no choice but to take a look." Lily claimed her tablet and transferred files.

"But, Lily-"

"She's right, Jiaying." Tygan clasped his hands behind his back. "If there's even a chance Outrider and Vahlen are at this location, we have to make an attempt to rescue them."

"But...you..." Something defeated finally worked over Jiaying's cheeks. "So be it, then."

"Don't look so morose." Lily punched her on the am. "We might take some knocks, but we'll still have _Avenger_ , no matter what happens. Even if it's a trap, we can pull Menace out of the fire and pull up stakes."

"That's true." And, if anything, it only seemed to make Jiaying sadder. "And the war will continue, for us at least."

"That's the idea. That's the job: eternal vigilance." Lily finally got a gulp of coffee down, then headed for the door. "Finally, I get to give the big man _good_ news."

* * *

 _Thump! Thump!_

"Who is it?" Tinny, the voice, echoing from the other side of the sealed compartment door. It didn't quite sound right for the occupant.

"Julie Richardson." She waited for a moment, and when no audible reply came forth, decided to press. "I thought I'd check in on you."

There came no response, but after a moment feet hit the deck. Julie waited as they approached the door. It hissed, and...

"It would seem some minds think alike." Charlotte Moineau inclined her head.

"Oh. Hello." Julie did her best to smile. She pulled the little box from under her arm. "I made brownies."

"Now I feel inadequate." Charlotte glanced over to the bed and its occupant. "Mariah?"

"I like brownies." There was more animation in her tone than Julie had heard in days.

"I'll take that as an invitation in." And Julie stepped over the threshold. Charlotte shut the door behind her, then settled at Mariah's right.

"I can't speak for how good they are. I had to scrounge a good bit to find the ingredients. Eggs in particular!" Julie shivered theatrically. She offered the box first to Mariah, who gently took it and began to pry morosely at one of the corners. Julie put her hands on her hips. "Take the damn center piece, Mariah, and don't feel guilty."

"But..." Hesitantly, she did as she was told. Julie nodded.

"That's right. Now enjoy it, or else."

"But you made them. I feel guilty." Evidently she wasn't guilty enough to avoid eating the sinfully soft oblong chunk of chocolately joy, studded with peanut butter chips.

"How are you holding up?" Julie handed the box to Charlotte.

"I..." Mariah had to deal with a mouth full of heaven in the only appropriate way known to even the Elders before she could answer. "I'm fine. I'm just fine."

"That is what she was saying to me a moment ago." Charlotte raised a golden eyebrow. "I am not convinced."

"I am!" Mariah huffed. "It's not...sure, maybe running around with a mop instead of a sword isn't glamorous, but it helps in its own way. It's...it's just as important. Maybe I'm better suited for it."

"No one on this ship believes that except you." Julie smiled.

Her smile faltered when Mariah's eyes flicked up, full of hurt and snide disbelief.

"You...and..." Julie coughed into her elbow. "Well, I mean...um...he'll come around..."

"People have been saying that. They've said it since I came aboard." Mariah's eyes didn't flash, and her lips didn't thin: as if even anger was beyond her state of being. "He'll never see me as anything more than scrap blown in on the breeze. I've been a fool to think he ever would."

"I don't..." Julie worked her jaw, trying to find words that weren't shit. "I...I like to think I know your father a bit better than most of the soldier complement-"

"Yeah, that's one way of putting it." Mariah looked down, turning red. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean that the way it sounded."

"So you read my file, huh?" Julie sighed. "I don't know if it helps or hurts, but I saw a different side of him in those days."

"It's me. It's something about me." Mariah pulled her legs up under her, dark eyes vacant. "I'm not up to his standards. Not like you."

"Me?" Julie scoffed. "I'm hardly some martial legend-"

"Our first psi-op?" Mariah's face twisted up. "Should I have gone to the psi-lab? Would that have made him happy?"

Julie blinked. "I don't...um..."

"Mariah. This is not helping." Charlotte gently laid a hand on her shoulder. "Julie is not your enemy."

"No. No, she's not." Mariah took a deep, chest-rattling breath. "I'm sorry. I'm not in a good space lately."

"I don't blame you." Julie broke bad and stole one of her own brownies. "It would get all of us some way or another, what's happened to you." She contemplated the chocolate in her hand. Mariah didn't speak, so Julie felt obligated to break the silence after two bites. "Well...I delivered what I wanted to...I'm sorry I'm not much help-"

"Just have a seat." Mariah smacked the bed beside her. "I don't want to be alone and you're nice. Don't go running off, please. I don't...I don't mean anything by any of it."

Julie hesitated. "I don't...um..."

"What?" Mariah cocked her head. "You don't want to sit?"

"I..." Julie cleared her throat, rather loudly. "I don't...well..."

She'd hoped someone might ask for clarification. No such luck. Charlotte and Mariah both stared quizzically, and Julie found herself fidgeting and rocking back and forth as she tried to find a way to...find words...

"I just..." She finally took a deep breath. "Okay. You can't tell anyone, all right? This is...it's huge. It's big, and it might shock you." Her heart thundered as blonde and brunette traded glances. "It's...it's a really big one. And I'm not sure how to put it."

"What are you talking about?" Mariah frowned.

"I'm...I guess I'm..." Julie inhaled, then put all her cards on the table, bracing for their incredulous responses. "I am a lesbian."

She waited. She dug her fingernails into her palms, wincing in anticipation...

...that continued for a good long while...

"... _oui_." Charlotte didn't twitch. "And?"

"And...and what?" Julie fought not to shake. "Sylvie and I kissed. I haven't really thought about it until recently, but I guess...like I said."

Neither of them moved. Neither of them spoke.

Julie fidgeted.

"And?" Mariah blinked slowly. "Keep going."

"Keep going? Why?" Julie frowned. "I just...I just told you-"

"You said there was a dramatic, earth-shattering, shocking revelation." Mariah shrugged.

" _Oui_." Chralotte made a looping gesture. "So...keep going. What is it?"

"I just...I told you..." Julie let out a long, aggrieved sigh, covering her eyes so she didn't have to see their matching idiot grins. "You two are dicks."

"Then why are you so interested in us?"

"Oh my God." Julie rapped her forehead hard. "I've just made myself the laughingstock of the ship."

"Easy on there, red: you already were." Charlotte beamed. "You say you and Sylvie finally went and did it, when you weren't in imminent mortal danger?"

"Damn it, frog: I'd hoped you'd forgotten." Mariah sullenly pulled a few Advent credits from her back pocket and fairly threw them in Charlotte's lap.

"You're the one who bet on _imminent mortal danger_." Charlotte's smile widened. "Literally any other kind of kiss-"

"Oh my _God!_ " Julie plopped down on the bed and seized her brownies. "I'm taking these back. You can all jump off the stern." Curiosity won out in the end. "... _how_ long have you all been placing these bets?"

* * *

"And John-"

"Tygan's probably already let him know, Commander." Lily Shen managed a tired smile. "This may not be the end, but-"

"But it's more than we had." Gallant scowled anyway, rolling a pen between his fingers. "I think Kipler's right. It could be a trap."

"That's your and Bradford's area of expertise. Although..." Shen hit a button on her tablet, pulling up specs. "We did finish work on the EXO and Spider Suits."

"Excellent." Gallant spent a moment imagining the tactical implications. "Quinn gets the Serpent. Give Kelly the Spider and Tariq the EXO. Mox will have to make do, but I think he'll figure it all out one way or another."

"Sir." Shen recorded the orders. "If Bradford gets us moving on the double, we should hit Canada around midnight."

"Ah. A late op." Gallant nodded once. "I want the strike team catching shuteye, even if we have to induce it. No one fucks up on this one."

"Yes, sir." Shen saluted. "Anything else?"

"Chosen?"

"Sir." Shen pursed her lips. "Our best guess is that this is the facility Cameron was nearly transferred to, which puts it square in Warlock territory."

"Can't have it easy. Issue mind-shields to the team."

"We've only got two, sir."

"Kelly and Mox."

"Got it."

"Good." Gallant nodded. "Now get some shuteye yourself, Lily: you look deader than a Texas armadillo."

"Sir." She managed one more smile. "Thank you, sir. I've had more coffee than I can stand."

"I imagine there's more in your future. Take the chance you've got." Gallant made a shooing motion. "Get out of my office, Lily."

"I'm going, sir. That's a promise." And she did.

"Moira..."

Gallant picked up her picture one more time. He ran his thumb along the line of her cheek. What was she enduring? What had she endured these last few days?

"We're coming." Gallant set his teeth. "It won't be long now, Moira: we're coming."

"Commander."

Gallant's eyes flicked up across his desk. "Haven't you ever heard of knocking, dipshit?"

"The demands of war and the metaphysical encroachment from Beyond do not allow for such trivialities." Geist shook his head. "I come to you one last time-"

"Selling Girl Scout Cookies?" Gallant leaned back in his chair. "No! You have a mixtape, don't you?"

"Commander, my mixtape is neither here nor there. What matters is that this war you have undertaken in defense of your world-"

"Last I checked it was _our_ war for _our_ world, just one of us never learned to share."

"I gave you the scientist who could have provided you Moira Vahlen's location! That you failed to take her is not my sin. And who was it who provided you with the design of the mind-shield?" Geist's lip curled toward his judgmental pinprick eyes. "Lecture me not on sharing when I have shared everything with you at every corner."

"Yeah, that's nice and all, Kane, but one of us is fighting the aliens and the other is leading bootleg Bible studies." Gallant eyed the Templar darkly. "You talk a big game, but you're too caught up in your human grudges and sins to risk your neck for anyone and anything but yourself."

Geist's eye twitched. "You malign my people unfairly."

"Do I?" Gallant stood, glaring down at him. "Prove it, jackass: give me Ross and Lawrence as attaches on this ship, like Betos down the hall did with Mox and Volk upstairs did with Dragunova and Mordecai. Bring a contingent of Templars to bear on the facility we've located in Canada. Prove to me your people can do more than sit in the shadows mumbling at the voices only they can hear."

Geist slowly crossed his arms. "Commander Gallant, we have the same enemies."

"Yet we're here measuring-"

"But that does not make us friends." Geist shook his head once. "No, Commander. So long as you ally with the Skirmishers, you will have no aid from me or my people."

Gallant nearly spat. "You're a shortsighted prick."

"I do not take kindly to insults, and I do not see the need to spend my loyal soldiers' blood in the names of those who are alien to us." He almost looked like he regretted the words, but they came out regardless. "Some alliances are not worth what they will cost."

"And some costs are far weightier than any other concerns." Gallant sighed, then rolled his head back to glare at the ceiling. "I'm looking away now. You can go."

Geist's feet shifted on the carpet. "Commander-"

"Get out, baldy." Gallant leaned on his desk. "If you're not stepping up to the plate in our hour of need, you and I have nothing to discuss."

When he looked down, Geist was indeed gone.

"Good." Gallant plopped down and powered up his terminal, checking those coordinates again. "Maybe deployment further north toward the snowfields..."

* * *

"I have a question."

"Oh, hey Moose." Firebrand waved lazily over her shoulder, then knelt to rifle through spare parts for another minute. "Shoot."

"Do you..." Cameron frowned. "Do you ever take the flight suit off?"

He thought he caught a flash of amused eyes under her helmet visor. "You should be so lucky, right?"

"No!" Cameron coughed. "I just...I never see you without..." He took a moment, and Firebrand spent it returning to broken junk and discarded splinters. Cameron's nerve failed, and he barely fought the temptation to run for the door. "I...um..."

"Relax! Christ, I'm not going to kill you." Firebrand's purr belied the assurance. "Did you hunt me down just to ask that?"

"No." Cameron cleared his throat. "I mean, I noticed someone rooting around in Shen's junk storage and I just wondered at the who and the why."

"Why? Why's easy." Firebrand held up what looked like a hard drive. "She doesn't need all her scrap metals and electronics, and I have my own hoard further aft."

"Why?"

"So I can repair my baby. Of course!" She had quite a nasty glare. "So I can rebuild her if she takes a shellacking!"

"I still don't..." Cameron coughed into his elbow. "Nothing."

"You don't think I could do it, huh?" Firebrand rose to her full, unimpressive height. "You doubt me."

"No! Never said that." Cameron coughed again. "It just seems crazy, that's all. I have enough trouble imagining us building the one we have."

"Give me a month and the contents of this storage bay, and a Skyranger's the least of what I can whip up." Firebrand kicked a piece of cracked plating, for something like emphasis. "I'm half-tempted to crash the bird now just so I can prove it to you."

"Jeez. Hell of a mechanic, you must be." Cameron shivered theatrically. "Making me feel inadequate."

"That's the nicest thing you've ever said to me." And Firebrand punched him on the arm to prove it. "Careful, now: you might find out if I ever take the suit off."

"I..." His mouth went dry. Was that an offer? Would she take offense if he acted like it was? Would she take offense if he asked for clarification? "Um...well-"

" _Mission Alert! Mission Alert! All hands to General Quarters!_ "

"Saved by the bell, huh, Moose?" Firebrand snapped past him in a flash, and then she was out in the hallway. "Don't look so disappointed!"

"Do I?" Cameron couldn't keep up with her, which was upsetting. It did give him a moment's privacy to examine his expression in the reflective wall paneling, though. "Yeah. I guess I do." He whistled under his breath. "God, if that _was_ an offer..."

He had never before resented the mission alert klaxon so much.

* * *

Waves thundered on the LA shore. Sand bunched up between his toes.

Edward Gallant sucked in the salty Pacific air.

"Here we are again."

"Oh..." Gallant turned, muscles thick and strong as they had once been. He reached up to his short-cut military hair, and just the feeling of how strong, how powerful and professional he had once been...

"It's been a little longer than I had hoped." Lithe and bikini-clad, framed by her billowing sarong shining white under starlight and in the faint glow from the LA skyline like a precise mirror for the half-moon casting ethereal glow over her face and sending iridescent shimmers through her still-scarlet hair...

"Angelis." Gallant nearly missed his own voice in the thunder from the breakers.

She didn't. She, in fact, smiled, and her teeth shone beautiful and ivory in the pitch of darkness.

"Welcome back, Commander."

* * *

 **Author's Note 51: Why** _ **do**_ **they call her Firebrand?**

Armor management: the bane of my existence. I love the suits with grapnels and rocket launchers, man, but every damn game I forget I even built them. They languish in my armory, forgotten, because they only pop into my head when I deploy my team. There was one XCOM Enemy Within game where I turned the entire team around because I forgot to equip a certain item that I've forgotten all about. 5 hour flight, stop, 5 hours back, one item switch, 5 hours to return. I bet those operatives hated me so much.

Anyway, I don't do that much anymore. No item is worth that much hassle - as much as I love the Ruler Armors(ICARUS!) and the others, the odds of them being what makes or breaks a mission are very low.

I usually issue light armor to Rangers and Sharpshooters. Heavy armors go, logically, to grenadiers first, but I'm not above giving them to Rangers too. Hell, I give anything to a Ranger: Rangers are my favorite class. I got the Overpowered achievement with Rangers. High speed, low drag, lots of mobility, flank and fire with run and gun and sword work. I tend to give the Bolt Caster to a ranger too - it's basically an oversized shotgun. And with only one shot, you want to give it to a soldier who is A) going to be close enough they can't possibly miss and B) has a secondary weapon, and a specialist does not count for either.

Until next time, _Vigilo Confido._


	52. Distant Thunder

_Please remember to favorite and follow!_

* * *

 _"Anyone can hold the helm when the sea is calm."_

 _~Publilius Syrus_

* * *

 **Chapter Fifty-two: Distant Thunder**

Hell was too soft of a word.

It wasn't always agony, of course: that would have inured Elena Dragunova to it after a while. It was spells and cycles: soft and hard, food and rest and then barbaric assault for what felt like days on end.

And through it all, she stayed where she was: bolted to a table laden with instruments and tools she'd become intimately familiar with lately.

Uselessly, Elena twisted her left arm, tugging at the bracket holding it down to ribbed steel. At first she'd thought it a blessing when they didn't simply drive the bolts through her bones, but after however long it had been since her brawl with prison security...every time she twitched, the rough edges of her fastenings dug into her wrists and ankles, into her waist and thighs. She'd bled a lot, but never quite enough to let her die.

"Idiots. Fools." Talking was the only thing that kept her focused, sometimes. "They should just kill me. I'll get out."

They never let her up. The table took care of her messes, and their method of giving her food and drink was to spoon-feed her. On the good days, at least: when they were in a harsh spell, they simply pushed a funnel between her lips and poured it all in, holding back just enough to leave her alive, and not an inch more.

Movement. Elena twisted her head - hard, with a bracket on her neck too - and caught a glimpse of another prisoner being moved. By the way she slumped in the grip of two stun lancers, this woman was in worse shape than Elena herself.

"Don't give up!" Elena called. "Vigilo Confido!"

The woman jerked. Her gaze snapped over to Elena, and in her lined, aged face, surprise glinted.

"You are XCOM!" Her voice - was that accent German or French? - cracked. "You are-"

The lancers dropped her. She went down hard on her face, and the Adventers paused to kick her a few times. When they picked her back up, she slumped even harder, head hanging low with blood running from her nose.

"Try that with me!" Elena spat in their general direction. They paid her no heed, just taking their charge off down the hall again, toward a door helpfully labeled _Extreme Treatment_.

 _She looks half-dead, or worse. Someone of that age, and things like this? She'll never survive_. Elena almost laughed, though there was no joy in the bitter temptation. _As opposed to me, young and healthy and certain to be just fine._ _Don't I have enough problems without borrowing someone else's?_

She didn't know what had happened to Zhang and Vasilieva. Maybe they'd been taken back to their cell, or maybe they were here in Data Extraction. Maybe they were dead already.

The door opened. Elena glared up at the ceiling rather than dignify her next interrogator with a look.

"You're wasting your time." She did her best to sound bored. "You don't have any surprises left, not after this long. I've seen all your tricks. The same old from the same old idiots won't convince me to spill anything-"

Her breath caught as her new interrogator's head appeared over her.

" _There is still fight in you_ ," the Warlock mused, tapping her cheek with one of his long armored talons. Elena couldn't help but yelp when he pushed it in, hard enough it punctured her skin. Red dripped down her chin, and the Chosen smiled, wide and hideous. " _No matter. Pain may be a fallible tool, child, but soon, you will think of it as a mercy."_

* * *

"This is insane. This is wild, this is out of our mind wishful-"

"Can it, Shen Junior." Jane took a test aim with the Spider Suit's grapnel. "Hard on my arm, I imagine, but going up and down like that...I wonder what else I can do with it? One of those old games I found in the archive...um..." She kicked at the ground. "Batman something. He had a grapple launcher, and he could use it to-"

"You're running off into the middle of nowhere with untested equipment on a hunch provided by Julian, of all people!" Jiaying looked, frankly, terrified. "Don't you think this is a bad idea?"

"Name one thing we've done that hasn't been a bad idea." Jane fetched her shard gun, checked it over, and slung the strap over her shoulder. She spent a moment debating, then bypassed her next selection and hurried to a weapon crate. "Damn thing is in here somewhere..."

"We should at least recon the site first. Maybe have Volk send in a team...take a couple of days to-"

"A couple of days?" Jane tossed her head, then swore and caught her cap before it ran away. "Jesus Christ, Jiaying, Dragunova's in there."

"We don't know that."

"If she's not, someone down there knows where she is."

"If we run in precipitously, we could lose you too."

"Yes. Comes with my line of work."

"But-"

"Shut up, Shen Junior." Jane shoved the crate away, hunting for the next one. "I am not talking to Central over this. I bet Mox knows where it wound up though."

"Just what are you looking for?" Jiaying frowned. "Your sword is right there on the wall, Irish-"

"Yeah, well. I think the real Shen did a little..." Jane let out a cry of triumph that a Highlander warrior would have been proud of. To complete that impression, she hefted the first of her prizes. "Check it!"

"I don't think I saw the plans for this project." Jiaying couldn't help but stare. "That is..."

"Yeah, she worked on it before you jumped aboard. We just haven't taken it out since. Don't ask me: Central usually sets the arms orders." Jane flourished the orange-glowing Ionic Axe, beaming the whole while. "Not as pretty as a sword, I say, but it does the job it needs to and that's what counts."

Jiaying blew at her bangs. "Captain Kelly, I really must insist you listen to me-"

"I've been listening. Jiaying, our people could be dying right now. Even delaying by hours could be the difference." Jane slung one axe over her shoulder, then the other. She checked their weight, then returned her attention to the worrywart. "Take it up with Commander Gallant."

"Take it up with-" She burst out coughing. "I think he'd rip my head off and bowl with it. He's gone mad."

"Yes. What else is new?" Jane still shifted her weight uncomfortably. There _was_ something different about him lately, wasn't there? "The world's gone mad, Jiaying. All we can do is beat sense into it one Advent base at a time. And it starts tonight."

"Jane-"

"That's enough, Shen." She raised her hand, very firmly. "Mox and Aileen and Fatima are already geared up. I had to pull rank on David to keep him from coming along, orders be damned. The mission is launching: it will launch regardless of anything I have to say, and I wouldn't call it off if I could." She narrowed her eyes. "This conversation is over."

"It..." Jiaying let out a low breath. "Alright, Captain. So be it."

"Don't sound so dramatic, Junior."

"Junior is a SPARK-"

"And he doesn't bitch about mission orders." Jane started for the hangar bay. "We'll be fine, Jiaying. Put your mind on something useful, like figuring out where Gallant is."

* * *

"It's been a while." Angelis strode from the surf as Aphrodite in glory, sea spray blowing up around her glistening sarong. Her violet eyes glinted in starlight. "Commander."

"It has." Gallant cleared his throat. "What do you want?"

"Jane Kelly. We established that." Angelis dug her toes into the sand, stopping ten paces away. "In exchange: I will come to the _Avenger_ , and you receive Moira Vahlen. I shouldn't have to remind you." She pouted. "Did you forget me already, Edward?"

"I don't trust you."

"I'd laugh at you if you did."

"So you admit this is a trap?"

"I admit nothing. I deny everything." Her white smile lit up the beach. "If you want the rose, Edward, sometimes you have to risk the thorns. Is Vahlen rose enough for you?"

Gallant worked his jaw. "If the price of freeing her is the end of my people, that's too much."

Angelis tilted her head. For a moment, it looked like fury shone in her eyes...but rapidly, Gallant began to suspect it was something else.

"You are a man of principle, Commander." Her lips twitched again, but this wasn't as joyous. It was quiet and almost bitter. "Yet another way in which you and I, though separated by allegiance, home, and even species, are very much alike."

"Me? Like you?" Gallant scoffed. "Excuse me, Angelis, but do I show up in your home and blow shit up?"

"I think if it was the future of your race you gambled for, you would blow up as much of my shit as you deemed necessary." A dry chuckle, again tinged with darkness. "Ahem. Switzerland? That was my building, jerk."

"What do you care?" Gallant scoffed. "You invaded my planet for your petty self-interest. I'm trying to save my people."

Something flickered in Angelis' eyes, something that mixed amusement and anger in a quick morass. "A cripple, leading an army in the name of ensuring the people they call their own do not find themselves obliterated."

"Make fun of me, then. Laugh." Gallant's fists clenched. "You don't know what it's like to be weak, Angelis. You don't know what it's like to-"

"-to feel yourself fading away? Or were you going to say I don't know what it's like to have a nurse attached to my hip? To have a medical team on call to run into my office if I fall over, because I'm too weak to stand by myself?" Her eye twitched. "Edward, I wasn't referring to you at all. I was speaking of _myself_."

"You..." Gallant blinked. "You're an Elder."

"You think this dream makes you feel strong, Commander?" Angelis' eyes flashed. "My body fails me worse than yours ever could! It's not cardiac arrest and stairs I fear, Edward Gallant. Your life? Your waking nightmare, that makes you feel weak?" All that rage in her eyes went away in a sudden flash, and something wet shone in the moonlight as it started down her cheeks. "Do you know, Commander, what I would give in order to walk with the aid of a cane?"

Gallant shifted his weight. Slowly, though, he took a few steps and reached out. Angelis didn't react when he gently laid his hand on her shoulder.

"This body...is not my own." In her eyes, something was missing as she slowly stretched out all of her limbs. "It's proportioned wrong. I'm missing my lower arms. This head..." She turned it, and her eye twitched again with disappointment. "And yet, Edward, despite being nothing I call familiar, despite reminding me of my weakness with its own...I'm not confined to my stasis chamber in this dream." Bitter joy touched her lips, even as tears continued to drip over them. "I know your pain, better than anyone in your Resistance ever could."

Gallant didn't quite know what to say. He stood there, awkwardly holding her shoulder while she cried. He felt old-fashioned, but he wished for...even if she was the enemy, she was...

"What..." Gallant cleared his throat a moment later. Was that how Angelis kept doing it? "Here."

"Commander?" Angelis' eyes fixed on the handkerchief he proffered - the one he hadn't had until a moment ago. She frowned. "Are you a psionic, Edward?"

"No."

"Most strange. We must be very alike, then: you must be feeding off my aura." She took it, then wiped at her eyes with the blue cloth. "Thank you for your kindness. I am not used to it. My children and my colleagues alike would sense weakness if ever I showed..."

"That's life. It's a bitch." Gallant forgot about the handkerchief when she was done with it, and it faded into the air. "Angelis-"

"Enough of this." She cleared her throat. "We are off-topic. Kelly, Commander: in exchange for Moira and myself. I would be happy to resume this conversation once I am safely secured in your brig."

Gallant hesitated. Gone was the human...or, at least, the person. Now she was the enemy again, eyes set and expression inquisitive. "I don't..."

"I won't offer again, Commander. I require your answer before we leave this beach."

Gallant let out a hissing breath. "You don't make things easy."

"Of course not. I am a woman." She mulled that over for a minute. "After a fashion."

Gallant lowered his head. He clenched his fists again, thinking...thinking, and thinking, and...

"Commander?"

He made his choice.

"I'll start the wheels turning when I wake up." Gallant looked back up. "That's a promise. I'll drop Captain Kelly at the appropriate site within forty-eight hours."

"I will be waiting there for you." Angelis smiled. "It will be nice to see you in the flesh for the first time."

Gallant smiled. This time, he felt the dream starting to slip away from him, like a billowing wind that took color and sound from the world and brought it all to black.

And he prayed to God that he wouldn't have to do what he'd just promised.

* * *

Running feet. The blare of the mission klaxon. People shouted in the hallways, encouraging each other to move faster, reminding people of mission details, or just demanding loudly that someone tell them what was happening.

Mariah Bradford hugged her knees, perched atop the cot she still struggled to think of as hers. It wasn't as cushy as the one up in the soldiers' barracks. That made sense, she supposed: those stuck in the janitorial duty didn't run the risk of gruesome death in action. The little comforts were less important for their morale.

She'd gotten up twice to watch the hullaballoo outside. Still, she got up again: putting one bare foot down on the deck at a time. She ached, as she always did after a long day of swabbing and scrubbing and making food in the galley, but it wasn't enough to dissuade her. Very little was: nothing had held her back from making her way to _Avenger_ across half a planet, after all.

She poked her head up to the porthole in the door, watching people hurry along. Something big was going down, but she wasn't sure what: no one told the custodial department much of anything. That didn't matter, though. If her cleaning dishes and floors helped win the war, she didn't need glory.

She didn't. Honestly.

But...

"Oh, shit!" Mariah ducked as _he_ appeared, hands behind his back. She risked a glance out the corner of the window after she thought she'd given him enough time to move on.

She hadn't. There he was, profile as strong as ever, face grim and set-

Mariah froze as their eyes locked. She quivered, but hoped the door hid the worst of it. Bradford didn't blink, and that in his eyes...

Mariah broke. She fled back to her bed, making sure to lock the door just in case her father felt like screaming at her some more. He could scream, but she didn't have to listen: he'd already kicked her off the duty roster. What more was he going to do? Put her on the ground? Maybe that would be a mercy.

"No." Mariah huddled back on her bed, popping the last of Julie's delicious brownies into her mouth. She chewed anxiously. "No. If I get stuck on land, I won't...I can't...he'll never..."

Silence fell. Deep inside, Mariah longed for Julie, or Charlotte, or even Sylvie Richard or Lieutenant Liang.

But she had no one. They would all be in the bar, waiting to see how the op developed and if they would be needed. Oh, no rule stopped Mariah from joining them, but what if she ran into her father...what if he saw her there...and facing everyone, all at once? She wasn't one of them. She never had been.

She didn't realize she was reaching until her fingers found her datapad.

"Uh." Mariah felt foolish, but the prickling tears pushing at the backs of her eyes drove her on. Gently, she pulled her datapad up, balancing it on her knees. She hunted through her apps until she found what she wanted. She hit the button, and the red recording light clicked on.

"Hi, older me. I haven't done one of these in a while." Mariah let out a long, slow breath. "I just need someone to talk to, and of all people, I guess you probably know me the best."

* * *

Darkness. It enveloped Jiaying Shen on all sides, pressing down on her like a blanket of death.

"Stupid...crawl spaces..." She'd never liked them, not for beans. But, Lily had tasked her with finding the strange noises, and that meant crawling around in the metalworking. If there was one thing worse than finding something back here, it was _Lily_ finding something back here. After all the searching she'd sent Jiaying out on...it would just be embarrassing if Lily came back and hit on what she was looking for in the first five minutes.

"Cousins can be competitive." Jiaying paused to wipe her brow. There was so much at stake...

 _Don't think about that. Just...don't. Think about...about..._

It was hard to find something to think about that would put her fears to rest. Maybe Gallant and his people knew what they were doing. Maybe they were walking into a trap. Either way, Jiaying had plenty to fear.

"It doesn't change anything." Four words that rang cold in the dark. "Whether or not they win tonight..."

All true. None of it comforting. Some decisions were too hard to make. Some fights were too hard to volunteer for.

Jiaying hadn't volunteered. Left to her own devices, she would have stayed out of all of this. She wasn't as brave as Lily, or as determined as Tygan. But life...life had a way of finding you when it was your time, whether that came in the form of an offer or a bomb in the wrong place.

"Think of Alex, Jiaying." Her lips twitched even at the thought of him: her Vancouver love, who'd come all the way to Europe with her without a qualm. The father of her son.

His broken body after the raid...

"For him. For _them_." Jiaying's feet started moving before she opened her eyes. Her hands moved too: moved up to the control panel on the wall. She still hesitated, but not as long this time. That image burned itself in her mind again, and the thought of her son...

"Don't give up now." She put in the code she needed, and waited while the machinery powered up.

Then... "Time to finish the sweep. I've lingered here too long." Before the words even finished echoing, Jiaying was on her way.

She didn't look back at the humming machine once.

* * *

"Repeater." Mox fixed the device in question to the muzzle of his magnetic bullpup. "And an expanded magazine."

"Sure you don't want a kickass laser sight?" Lily Shen had to shout to make herself heard over the low rumble of Firebrand testing her engines.

"No. I use a lot of ammunition. My weapon needs more shots more than I need the sight." Mox spent a moment unscrewing his magazine housing, faster and more assuredly than any mere human could. When he put the extension in its place, he moved just as quickly.

"Ripjack?"

"Ready." Mox jutted it out to prove it, then replaced the blades in their place slung along his arm. He slipped his bullpup strap in place, then fetched a grenade.

"You good?" Shen watched him every minute.

"I am ready for war." Mox thought once of Dragunova, and every other concern faded. "I have a debt to repay. When I was lost in Angelis' grip..."

"Well, don't do anything stupid because of that." Shen gave him a warning look. "Be smart. You tip that facility off to your presence too early, and you'll never get anyone out."

"Rest assured, I know this." Mox set his teeth. "I imagine this place was my eventual fate, had rescue not come at the opportune time. I will enjoy my visit far more than I would have."

"Cut the chatter, Mox!" Jane stood at the base of Firebrand's ramp, waving. "Aileen! Tariq! Get your asses over here!"

"Oh, boy!" Aileen nearly bounded over to the brunette's side. She brandished the Bolt Caster. "Let's kill some dudes!"

"Your mission will not be easy." Bradford stood center of the hangar, eyes on the four raiders. Mox paid him half an ear, hurrying to stand at Jane's left hand. Central chuckled. "Then again, when are they ever?" He sobered quickly. "Yours is to find Elena Dragunova, and Doctor Vahlen if she is present as I hope she is. Do so with speed, and do so..."

It took Mox a moment to realize why Bradford had stopped. It was only when Jane's ponytail nearly slapped him that he figured out heads were turning, and he supposed his fixation on Dragunova had cost him situational awareness. His head turned.

"Oh...shit." Aileen gulped. "Fuck."

* * *

"Call me a plus-one, kids." _Thump. Thump_.

"Sir!" Bradford quickly stepped up into Gallant's way. Feeling generous, the Commander let him have his moment. "Sir...what are you doing?"

"Isn't it obvious, John?" Gallant narrowed his eyes. "I would have thought the pistol and armor would give it away."

"Sir, you _walk with a cane_ -"

"And so what? You forgotten what happened June of '15?" Gallant's lip slowly curled. "I schooled you when you were in your prime, old man. I'm not as slow and green as Kelly."

"You can't do this." That was the brunette herself. Gallant's eyes snapped her way. She crossed her arms definitively. "Sir, I'm not going easy on you, because you told me once that isn't what you need: you're going to slow us down and make the entire operation harder."

"What? You think a cane means I can't fight?" Gallant scoffed. "Guns exist for a reason. I admit the Shadowkeeper isn't a SAW, but-"

"But nothing." Aileen stubbornly took her girlfriend's side. "Your place is on the bridge, Commander. You command. It's your bloody job title."

"I'm not letting you bang up the job rescuing Moira." Gallant couldn't help it. "Not again. Not after DC."

"That wasn't the fault of anyone in this room." Bradford's lips thinned. "That was dealt with."

Jane's eyes flashed and her scowl deepened, but she didn't turn on Bradford like Gallant hoped. "Get upstairs, Commander Gallant."

"You're not the boss of me." Gallant scoffed. "Been a long time since a captain has been able to pull rank on me."

"This isn't the Army, Edward." With one sentence, Jane burned any chance of Gallant's regretting handing her to Angelis. "If I say you're not coming on my goddamn covert op, that's the story. You're not coming on my goddamn covert op."

"This woman gets it." Fatima nodded judiciously.

"I could throw you all off my ship." Gallant didn't mention what worse he could do to Jane in particular.

"Then do it when we get back." Jane jerked her head toward the drop bay. "Menace, mount up. We launch in three minutes."

"Belay that." Gallant started for them. When Bradford reached for his shoulder, he rammed his cane into the XO's knee. The old man stumbled back a pace, and then Gallant was off for Jane. "You don't get a say in this one, Jane. I'm coming. Unless you think you're man enough to stop me?"

"Maybe I'm not." She shrugged. "But then again, I don't have to be."

"What are you talking about?" Gallant glared. His cane hit the ramp, and then he was up in the Irishwoman's face. "John? He had his chance to save Vahlen in the field, and he fucked it all up like you all do!"

"You're not in any fit state to come into the field, even if your body was tip-top." Jane didn't even flinch. "Skipping pills again, Commander?"

"The fuck is it to you-"

Something caught him from behind: something powerful and unyielding. Gallant fought, but it ripped him off his feet and into the air and-

* * *

"That's enough, Junior." Jane let out a breath when the SPARK pulled Gallant into a tight, enveloping hug rather than shake him around like a rag doll. "Keep him there until we've cleared the hangar."

"Let me go, you bundle of bolts!" Gallant struck at Junior's armored plating, but he accomplished as much as Jane expected. "That's a direct order!"

" _I cannot comply_." Junior hummed for a moment. " _Please take all complaints about directives up with Lily Shen_."

"Shen!"

"Kelly's right, and John's right." Shen didn't twitch. "Do what Captain Kelly says, Junior."

"This is mutiny!"

"It's for your own good. We can't let you kill yourself." Jane inhaled, surprised by the agonized venom in Gallant's eyes. "Sir, you coming along is nothing but suicide with another name."

"You can't take this from me!" He let out an anguished wail. "You can't! I have to save Moira!"

"We are clear for takeoff," Firebrand announced. She sounded oddly level, as if forcing the sarcasm from her system with every word. "Please clear the hangar to the marked exhaust safety points."

"Commander." Jane hesitated. "Edward!"

That got his attention. Jane met his burning, boiling eyes when they came back to bear on her.

"We'll bring her back," she promised, voice so low she worried he wouldn't hear her over the building engines. "We'll bring them all back, or die trying."

He didn't speak. Or, maybe he did. Jane just heard the engines building, and saw Junior pulling Gallant back to the safety markers.

"Come on." Aileen caught her shoulder, and Jane turned into the drop bay. She risked one glance back, wondering if Gallant would break Junior's grip and try rushing through the backblast.

He didn't. He didn't even try.

And his eyes stayed locked on hers until the bay door thundered shut.

* * *

 **Author's Note 52: Shadow Archetypes**

One of the most common protagonist/antagonist relationship archetypes - while at the same time being one of the _best_ when done right - is the Shadow Archetype. Slightly different is the Dark Mirror, but the terms are used relatively interchangeably for subsets of the same idea. Basically, the concept is that the protagonist and antagonist are two sides of the same coin: the things that drive the hero are present in the villain as well. Being a huge Batman: Arkham City fan, I will cite the Zsasz subplot from that game. Zsasz, like Batman, cites having dead parents as part of his backstory and his motivation for being a serial killer. Where Batman and Zsasz differ is that they take the same inciting incident and turn it to different purposes.

In this sense, Gallant and Angelis are the dark and light counterparts to each other. While there is more in their backstories I haven't touched yet, they are both essentially cripples entrusted with leadership positions to save their failing races. Those of you who have progressed further in the XCOM 2 plot know Angelis isn't lying: her species' fate is tied to what happens here on Earth and the fate of the human race - which directly propels Gallant into a mirrored position to her own, as he tries to protect his own people from the fate Angelis brings on them. Once you take out their different methodologies, moralities, and species, the two are very similar characters.

Yes, it's a common relationship archetype. That doesn't make it any less fascinating to pare down and consider, or any less brutally effective when used well.

Until next time, _Vigilo Confido_.


	53. Against All Hope

_Please remember to favorite and follow!_

* * *

 _"The backbone of surprise is fusing speed with secrecy."_

 _~Carl von Clausewitz_

* * *

 **Chapter Fifty-three: Against All Hope**

Snow crunched under Jane's boots. She tugged on the brow of her cap, using it to shield her from the falling sheets that aimed for her eyes. She thought of her hair, but the white would be good camouflage. If she looked half as much a part of nature as Aileen...

She couldn't see Mox, but she could very well see Fatima. Not for the Assault's lack of skill: she moved and stilled at the right times, almost like a wraith. But the exoskeleton protruding from her shoulders and arms, and its pneumatic whirring, made her stand out.

"Six hundred yards." Mox was apparently about ten feet directly ahead, which made Jane feel stupid. Then again, he had lovely white armor that blended very well.

"I can't see shit." Aileen, eloquent as always, scowled. "It's cold as tits, you know that? I think I have icicles in my hair. Hell, I think I have them-"

"Cut the chatter, one-five." Jane took point, checking her shard gun. "No one fires a shot until I give the order. There will be sentries and sensors."

" _Thermal reads a pair of troopers patrolling ahead of you_."

"Roger that, Central." Jane jerked her head. "Mox."

Without a word, he vanished. Jane waited a moment, then started off, trading gun for axe. She saw Fatima bemusedly examine her own sword, and Aileen draw that pocketknife of hers. Through the shadows they crept, eyes straight and focused. Jane waited for a shape to appear from the darkness, mag-rifle at the ready...

None came. When a shape did appear, it was Mox, plunging his ripjack into the snow to clean it. Steam hissed up as the electrical circuits made contact with the cold, pushing past the exhalation cloud hanging over the team's heads. Of the two sentries, Jane saw no sign.

"If we don't get inside soon..." She shivered, which probably finished her sentence just fine. Her cheeks stung, and far from being refreshing, this cold air was like needles scraping through her lungs.

"Fence." Mox didn't seem as affected as Jane felt. He hurried off into the swirling doom, and Jane sighed when two steps made a chain-link fence fade into view.

"You have elf-eyes, don't you?" She waited while Mox knelt, popping out his ripjack again to cut through the fence. "I hope that doesn't have a sensor."

"Hang tight." Aileen waved Nessie on, and the drone popped out. The blonde held up her forearm, and she typed one-handed on the screen that popped into existence. She chewed her lip. "Connecting...decrypting...Jesus Christ, someone needs to update their security. What is this? 2020?" She lowered her arm a moment later. "Fence sensors are kaput. Cut the things."

"Breaching fence." Mox cut quickly, and a moment later he'd opened a hole big enough to duck through. "I will take the lead."

"Do that." Jane waved Fatima in second. Before going through herself, she paused. "Aileen, you're on rearguard."

"Watch your hat, chick." Aileen grinned when Jane made sure to tug on the brim of the object in question, in case any fragment of fence tried to steal it.

" _Avenger_ , this is Menace. How copy?"

" _Menace, this is Central. We copy four by four_."

"Better than most. Could get worse before it gets better." Jane paused to study the building storm clouds. "We are inside the perimeter and beginning our approach to the prison complex. We'll keep you posted."

* * *

Fatima slipped along the prison wall, letting her compatriots who were less encumbered double over and run the fence lines. She kept her gun up, not trusting her skill with the blade she still didn't want. Jane had said no shooting, and Fatima's experience agreed wholeheartedly. Still...

" _Guard_." A moment later, Fatima thought she heard a thunking noise. Mox's voice returned. " _She is free now_."

"I like that one." The wind and snow took her words well away. Fatima hurried to the next corner. "Skirmishers are professionals."

" _Donut?_ "

Fatima froze. She pushed up against the wall, turning her head as a priest rounded the corner, white armor making her almost invisible in the weather. She did a half-circle, eyeing the surround with gun raised.

The butt of Fatima's shard gun cracked into her forehead, and the priest tumbled backward. Fatima seized her helmet and threw it as far as she could, separating the Adventer from her comms unit.

"I'm only going to ask this once, you piece of shit." Fatima shoved her into the wall, using her shard gun to choke her. "XCOM prisoners. Where?"

" _Mor...balaten..._ "

"Don't shit me!" Fatima shoved harder, and she twisted too. The Adventer thrashed as her neck nearly broke. "Try again!"

"The hell are you doing?" Jane appeared over her shoulder, catching her arm. "You speak the language?"

"Enough." Fatima shoved again when the priest tried to duck out. "Alright, then. Goodbye."

" _Donut!_ " The priest repeated that word until Fatima pulled back, just a little. Color flushed back into her alien cheeks. She gasped out words in a quick and dirty stream the wind almost stole.

"Second building." Fatima listened a moment more. "Cellblock 5C. Just past the barracks."

"Because of course it is." Jane blew steam. "Right. We can work with that."

"Damn right." Fatima let the priest go, but only so she could pull her gun back and crack its butt into the traitor's face again. The Adventer collapsed in a heap, half-buried in the snow.

"Mox, Aileen, team up and push on the second building along the footpath. I've got Tariq. We'll approach along the urban side." Jane hefted her shard gun. "One step at a time. We might just get through this in one piece!"

* * *

"I should be with them."

"No, you shouldn't." Volk gave Gallant a very harsh stare. "A leader's place is to lead. Your talents are wasted with a rifle in your hands."

"This is truth." Betos nodded once. "Now place your focus in the direction to which it is owed: command, Commander."

"Menace, this is _Avenger_." Bradford pursed his lips, examining the fuzzy holodisplay. "Sensors are having a hard time with this morass. Report."

" _We're pushing on the second building. Almost to the doors_." Jane's voice went out for a minute, and Gallant strained to make her out. " _-few more guards, but no trouble so far_."

"Roger, Menace." That was one plus point for Bradford: despite the wounds he and Jane owed to each other, he didn't let even a hint of personal annoyance creep into his voice. He glanced up to Gallant's perch. "Weather's getting worse."

"Check in with Firebrand. Make sure she's in her holding pattern." Gallant clutched the railing. "I don't like this. I don't like any of this."

"You're not the only one." Volk frowned. "Do you think it's a trap?"

"A trap? For it to be a trap, Julian would have to be in contact with Advent. There's no other way they could know we were coming." Gallant thought of Angelis and his dreams, but shoved the thought away. Maybe she'd plucked the thought from his head and maybe she hadn't, but if he got all tinfoily about things like that, it was time to just lay down arms and let the Elders have their way with the world.

"This is logical." Betos worriedly pursed her lips. "I pray Dragunova will be alive when we reach her."

"She will be. Reapers are strong." But Volk looked away anyway. "I'm sure she will."

Silence - uneasy silence - descended on the bridge. All eyes turned to the fuzzing, hissing, in-and-out holodisplay, and the blue icons representing soldiers. They moved, hanging up and freezing as tracker signals faded in and out, then reappearing several yards along. Crystal flakes of harsh snow fell and swirled, enough that Gallant imagined he could feel the Arctirc chill in his one bones.

 _This isn't going to end well. It just isn't._ He tried to banish the thoughts, but it was hard. Something just...wasn't right.

"It doesn't matter." No one could have heard him, not if they stood at his elbow. Gallant massaged his chest and the ever-present pain building worse and worse where it counted. "Moira."

Compared to the chance of saving her, what were the lives of one strike team?

Not for the first time, Gallant wondered if he should have sent David or Julie in Jane's place. His palms sweated even at the thought of Jane's being taken or killed. Taken might not be so bad - he could claim to Angelis that this was the only way he could deliver her without rousing the suspicion of his crew - but if she died? That would be a disaster. That would be the end of the deal, which was Gallant's only hope if this raid didn't turn up Vahlen or her location.

His breath came in and went out ragged as he watched the icons of his soldiers push on through the snow.

* * *

"Door in three. Two." Aileen yanked it open a moment later. "One! Go!"

"Clear!" Mox called after a moment. Aileen poked her head around the doorway, Bolt Caster at the ready, and eased up slightly when she too saw the empty hallway bereft of soldiers or angry janitors. She took a step in, and...

"Oh, shit!" Aileen shivered delightfully for a moment. "Bloody hell, it's warm in here."

" _Breaching on the far side_." Jane went quiet, and Aileen used the pause to work her way up to Mox's flank. Together, they worked their way inside, bypassing doors labeled in Advent wingdings. Hopefully Mox knew where they were going, because Aileen was lost.

" _Inside_." That was Fatima, quiet and cold and deadly as always. " _Moving up from your three, team two_."

"Copy." Aileen faced the direction in question, pushing forward down a long, wide corridor. "I see double doors ahead. Big ones."

" _So do we_." Jane didn't sound happy. " _Take a peek_."

"You're covered." Mox aimed back down the hallway.

"What a gentleman." Aileen poked her head up into the porthole set in the door's upper housing. What she saw was blurry as only badly-cleaned glass could do, but...

" _Do you see what I do?_ "

"I don't know about that, Irish, but I make fifteen...seventeen..." Aileen blew at her bangs. "I make a fuckload of dipshits in there. Looks like the mess."

" _That door at the east end._ " Fatima gave Aileen a moment to locate it. " _The label reads_ cell block _._ "

"...oh, shit." Aileen checked the Bolt Caster. "We have to go through them, don't we? At least it looks like it's mostly troopers..."

" _Weapons hot_ ," Central chimed in. " _The Commander wants that room cleared_."

"My pleasure-"

" _No, wait_." Jane didn't elaborate for a moment, but when she did, her voice was darker. " _Shen, check my visual. Is that what I think it is?_ "

" _Hang on_." Lily didn't speak for so long that Aileen thought they'd lost connection. " _If you're thinking that's a weapon sensor, then yes_."

"Lovely." Aileen glanced at the Caster again. "Weapon sensor, huh? Those are the ones that detect mag-fire. I do notice no one in there has a gun."

" _If we go in and open up, it'll be a slaughter. But every Adventer from here to Montreal will know where we are, too_." Fatima let out a hissing breath. " _And it's the only way through to the cell block_."

Aileen swore, leaning her head on the door. "So...what? What do we do?"

" _Simple, really_." Jane paused, and Aileen could almost see the glint popping up into her eyes: the _let's-do-something-really-stupid_. " _No one fires a shot_."

* * *

Pratal Mox burst through the doors at a dead run. The first soldier, mess tin in hands, turned just in time to get the hallway fire extinguisher cracked upside his head. He went down in a heap, and his array of helmetless companions whirled.

"Gotcha!" Aileen raced in at Mox's left, and she caught one around the waist. They flew off into a table, and the Irishwoman's pocketknife went into his throat in a flash. Mox popped his ripjack, dropping the extinguisher.

About half of them charged, plates and dinner knives raised. The others turned and started for the door, shouting for reinforcements-

Jane and Fatima burst from the far side, axe and sword in hand, and laid into them with a vengeance. Blades flashed in the light, and limbs flew with them. Fatima's EXO-enhanced grip seized one soldier by the ankle when he tried to kick her, and the Egyptian hurled him head-over-heels down the full length of the galley.

Mox ducked as a cross nearly took him in the cheek. He wove, catching the outstretched arm and gutting its owner with one ripjack slash. He kicked the second soldier in the knee hard enough it cracked and she went down.

More came in. Mox hit his grapple, and the line shot out into the ceiling. He lifted himself above the heads of his enemies, releasing the line to land on their milling shoulders. He vaulted clear when they tried to throw him, and his shoulder jerked hard when it landed on a table. He rolled, and on came the swarm. Mox seized a fork in his off hand.

He knocked a kick aside, and before the soldier could react, Jane's grapple shot out and seized him around the waist. He flew into her waiting elbow strike, and Mox took the moment to lunge, spraying yellow blood with a ripjack slash across the next soldier's chest. She screamed, then caught his arm on the backswing. It didn't help her: Mox drove the fork into her eye, and she went down thrashing.

"Watch it!" Aileen's pocketknife flew, and it drove into the throat of a captain about to brain Fatima. For her part, she kicked him anyway, even as he collapsed, then recovered the knife without a word of thanks. Aileen, weaponless, ducked and weaved as three more came in at her.

"Here!" Mox seized his next enemy by hip and forearm, then flung him into Aileen's enemies. He took two of them down in a tangled heap, and the blonde smashed the third's head into a table so hard it cracked and bent. She lunged at the trio before they could disentangle, and the last thing Mox heard from that side was bones snapping.

" _Donut!_ " screamed the first soldier to catch him. She yanked, and Mox stumbled - right into another trooper's uppercut. It flung his head up, but even the blossom of red pain wasn't enough to stop him hitting his grapple again. The line went out, not up, but when he recalled it...

" _Mor balaten!_ " wailed the soldiers he faced, when Mox jerked his arm and flung Aileen's broken table right into them. It swept them away with a mighty crash, depositing half a dozen bodies on the floor in various states of damage.

" _Vox tala_..." Mox paused to weave away from an overeager trooper with a mop who came in hard, hitting high and low. Mox's ripjack shredded the improvised staff at one end, then the other, yet the soldier held onto the remnants still, using them like a club. Mox sidestepped an overhead, catching the soldier's arm before he could recover. His ripjack went out, plunging into his chest and out the other side.

 _Wham! Wham!_ Jane cracked her victim's head on the wall, then wove away as another came in with a steak knife. He slashed once, then twice, and on the third strike Jane caught his wrist. The kracsad shrieked when she broke his elbow, then his hand, then plucked out the knife and cut his throat with it. The next soldier to come at her - jumping from off a table with a shriek about Angelis' fury - caught a stab in between the ribs, then a headbutt and a second stab right into his eye. Without missing a beat, Jane turned and threw, and the knife shot across the room and in between the shoulder blades of one of Aileen's enemies, racing for the far doors rather than standing.

"Mox!" Fatima kicked one, and he fairly flew back, crashing onto one of the bench seats. He rose gamely, despite the EXO dent in his chest armor. Mox appreciated that: it made it easier to aim as he jumped from the table, catching the soldier by the head and taking him down with momentum on his side.

"On your left!" Aileen bounded onto and then over the table, spin-kicking into one coming at Jane from behind. He staggered, then screamed when the blonde's follow-up involved another spin-kick that brought her heel down on the back of his head. She left yellow footprints when she moved on.

"Two more!" Jane spent a moment correcting that, flipping one onto his face and dropping her knee into his back. She twisted his arm until it popped and snapped and jerked in unnatural ways, and the trooper's thrashing lasted only a moment. "One!"

"... _for Ten!_ " Mox fired his line as the last soldier raced for the door, and the Adventer wailed when it caught him by the ankle. Mox yanked his foot out from under him, then hauled him in, fast and vicious. His ripjack flashed as soon as he had a target.

Silence fell in the mess.

* * *

"Damn fine piece of work, Menace." Gallant nodded once. "I never doubted you."

"Liar." Shen gave him a little smirk. "You going to have a heart attack, sir? I thought we'd have to call Julie for a minute..."

"Shut up." Gallant watched the holodisplay, and the faint fuzzing representations of each soldier as they regrouped. "Jane's gotten a lot better."

"She could be a Reaper." Volk eyed her icon himself, with more than a little speculation in the way he tugged at his beard. "She could be a very fine Reaper."

"She's mine, jackass: back off." Gallant paid him no more heed after that. "Menace, sweep the facility cell block. Let us know whatever you find."

" _Roger that, Commander_." Jane beckoned her operatives. " _Two teams. No one goes alone. Aileen, you're with me and-_ "

"Commander!" One of the techs waved frantically. "Sir, you need to see this!"

"See what?" Gallant clutched his cane. "Son, I have never heard anyone say that and have it be good news-"

"Energy signature detected inside the facility." The tech pushed it up, and as soon as Bradford opened it, Gallant's mouth went dry.

"...Menace?" Bradford took a deep breath. "Menace, get a goddamn move on. Locate Dragunova and anyone else of value, and get the hell out of there yesterday. We're reading the Warlock in there with you."

* * *

Jane brought her gun up as the pneumatic door opened. Before the soldier on the other side had a chance to react, she clubbed him with the butt. He staggered, and that was her chance to give him a one-two in the face that sprawled him against the far wall.

"Showoff." Aileen hit him with the Bolt Caster for good measure. "Could have axed him."

"Not as fun." Jane plucked what looked like a key from the guard's belt, then hurried down the grated metal walkways. "Split up."

"You _just_ said a minute ago-"

"I know what I said. The passage forks here." Jane hesitated. "I'll take right, you take left. Any occupied cells, open them."

"...good luck, chick." Aileen didn't go immediately, but in the end she did go and that was what mattered.

"Thanks." Jane hoped she didn't run into the Warlock around the next bend. She hoped more fervently that _Aileen_ didn't run into the Warlock: at least danger to herself was her own problem. Her friends?

"Anybody home?" Jane glanced into the first cell, but it was unoccupied. The second was as well. "Is anyone even _at_ this prison?"

A moment later, she had to eat her words: here was a cell with two occupants, both asleep in too-small cots with thin blankets to keep them from freezing. She scanned the guard's key chip, and after a moment of humming, the door opened.

"What is this?" An old man pushed himself up, white hair shining in the faint red light from the hallway. "It's not morning yet."

"Name." Jane studied him. "Now."

"You...don't look like Advent." The old man tilted his head. "You look like a soldier."

"And I want your name."

He nodded slowly. "Shaojie Zhang."

"Zhang? _Zhang_?" Jane stared... then remembered herself. "I'm Captain Jane Kelly from the _Avenger_ , sir. I'm here with Fatima Tariq-"

"Tisiphone?" Zhang threw himself to his feet. "She's alive?"

"Yes, sir. She's with our Skirmisher liaison, sweeping the cell blocks on the far side."

"There was someone else here from the _Avenger_. A Reaper."

Jane's heart skipped a beat. "Dragunova?"

"That was the name she gave." Zhang, barefoot and bare-chested, still cracked his knuckles. "Friend of yours?"

"Insofar as she has friends-"

"Jane?"

If her heart had skipped a beat before, now it outright stopped. The _world_ stopped: reality froze in place on rusty hinges, locking Jane's mind in a cyclic redundancy loop. The same thoughts spiraled in and out in a never-ending chain for that one stretching second that lasted for a thousand years.

 _No. It's not possible. It can't be! No!_

She couldn't believe it. But there was the evidence before her eyes: there was the body, sitting up and staring with shock and wonder paling her Slavic features.

Jane's jaw dropped. " _Irina?_ "

* * *

 **Author's Note 53: My Notes Called This "The Great Mess Brawl Chapter"**

No lie. I have sarcastic/funny notes and snarky nicknames for damn near everything.

I just want to note that I have, as of Thursday, **completed principle work on Season Two**. I'll be scrambling to edit the remaining chapters, but that's not nearly as intense of a proposition as finishing the actual writing. I can safely say it's gonna be insane, so make sure you're buckled up. And I also wanted to brag. Bite me, and write your own 250K+ fanfic without bragging, why don't you?

Also: I conceived of this moment before I even finished writing the original first chapter. That's often what happens: I come up with the end-of-book or even late-in-sequel twist, and from there I work back to figure out how to make it happen organically.

Next chapter is where I start to throw everything I've got at you. I hope you're ready!

Until next time, _Vigilo Confido_.


	54. Judgment

_Please remember to favorite and follow!_

* * *

 _"Let no one weep for me, or celebrate my funeral with mourning; for I still live, as I pass to and fro through the mouths of men."_

 _~Quintus Ennius_

* * *

 **Chapter Fifty-four: Judgment**

"Irina?" Jane couldn't tear her eyes from what couldn't be real. There she was, blonde and scarred and battered and... "You died!"

"I thought you did!" Her own eyes filled up with glass and mist. "I thought...they said you died in the blast-"

"You were closer to it than me!" Jane scrambled over and seized Irina's hand in both of hers. She shook all over, jolts flying through her body at just the sound of the Russian's voice. "You blew yourself up, and I wound up in the sewers. I made my way out, and Central...the old man..."

"What's happening in here?" Aileen appeared in the doorway. "In case you missed the memo, Captain, the Warlock's in the building and I don't see any Reapers hiding under the bed in here."

"They took her to Data Extraction. They just threw us back in here: we're not worth anything to them." Zhang hurried out into the corridor. "She might already be dead."

"That's not an option." Aileen eyed Irina for a moment. "Who's this?"

"Irina Vasilieva. Jane and I..." Irina shook her head. "It doesn't matter. We'll trade stories later." She threw aside her thin blanket, and Jane had to jump back as she put down a metal skeleton-frame leg in addition to one organic. "Dragunova doesn't have much time, if her ticket hasn't been punched already. I know the Warlock's visited her twice."

"Shit!" That announcement was enough to shock Jane back into action, and she scurried for the door. "Alright. Aileen, get Irina and Zhang to the facility perimeter. I'll call Firebrand and get her on standby."

"If she closes in, the facility will pick her up on sensors."

"Then have her ready to close the instant we call." Jane hit her com. "Mox, do you copy? We have Shaojie Zhang in tow and are moving for extraction." She heard a voice that sounded like Fatima's inhale sharply, but the Egyptian didn't interrupt as Jane rolled onward. "Dragunova is here at the south end of the facility in the Data Extraction wing. Fill in the blanks."

* * *

Creativity was not a Skirmisher's strong suit. They were, after all, bred for war as Advent puppets, made to serve and not question - to obey, rather than infer. Freedom was one thing, but rigidity of thinking was a common enough flaw in the Free.

Still, some blanks were easier to fill than others.

The Data Extraction Door exploded under Mox's breaching charge, and fire and fury seared and scorched the corridor. Fatima covered her eyes, but his helmet did the job for him - and it let him pick through the smoke in the now-empty doorway and spot the moving shapes that were not human no matter how closely they tried to mimic it.

 _Blam-blam-blam!_ One burst from his bullpup, and a stun lancer collapsed in a heap, twitching out its last moments of life. The other Adventer was a shieldbearer, and she dove for cover in time to avoid Mox's second burst. He raced through the smoke, sliding behind a support column while the shieldbearer's equipment hummed and whirred, and Advent voices screamed out in protest.

"Oh, my..." Mox was no believer in the humans' God, any more than in the Elders who had enslaved his kind. Still, he felt the need to invoke something, anything, as he beheld the horror of Data Extraction: automated torture devices that peeled up flesh, acidic tanks like those at the black site, tables that locked hapless victims in place... "Oh, my Commander..."

"Watch it, Mox!" Fatima sprinted in, EXO suit rumbling as she grabbed a fuel drum lying by the wayside. One-handed, she threw it, and it hit the shieldbearer in the face before her barrier could come up.

 _Boom!_

"Left side!" Mox ignored the shieldbearer's hapless wailing and the stuttering of her damaged equipment, instead opening up on full auto as three soldiers raced in from the flank, rifles up. His volley cut one down, but the other two found cover, and their return fire came just as even his extended magazine ran dry. Mox flattened himself behind the column, reloading as calmly as he could while red mag-shots ripped chunks of metal away all around him.

His eyes found a mirror, and behind those two soldiers and their fusillade were...

Mox threw a grenade. He didn't look when he did it: he just plucked it from his belt, ripped out the pin, and flung it behind him on the general hope that it would accomplish something. As sure as the tide, it missed, but even Advent's purpose-bred soldiers had to duck and cover when something blew up nearby. That was the opening he needed to pop out and-

 _Boom-hiss!_

"You are judged!" Mox cried, as his grapple line seized one soldier by the throat. He yanked the unfortunate soul his way, and when the soldier stumbled, his ripjack went out, driving up under his chin. The trooper thrashed, choking and wailing, while Mox fired blind under his arm, hoping to finish the last one off with a lucky shot. He charged, using the still-fighting corpse as a shield.

" _Mor balaten!_ " The third soldier ducked out of the way as Mox threw his friend, then came up with rifle ready. Mox caught it by the barrel, shoving the muzzle up toward the ceiling and slashing with his ripjack. The soldier caught his wrist, and for a moment they grappled. Mox ripped away his helmet, but the soldier retaliated by nearly smashing his head into the first of the occupied tables. Mox fought, but hands went around his throat, and the soldier screamed furious anger as he bore his weight down-

Something wet hit the trooper in the eye, and he flinched. Mox seized the moment while he had it, and he gouged the puppet's face with his nails, hard enough he drew yellow. When the soldier stumbled, Mox's ripjack struck, almost as if it had a mind of its own.

"Outrider!" Mox ignored the corpse, and he grabbed at the table, snapping restraint bars with his ionic jack. Spittle still dripped from her lips, as if she couldn't muster the strength to rein herself in. She managed to say something, but far too weak to be intelligible, and Mox's heartbeat sped up. "Hold on. Just hold on, Elena-"

" _Donut!_ " Evidently there had been a fourth soldier, somewhere in the mess. This one was a captain, and he aimed square at Dragunova from the other end of the table. Mox froze as he pressed his gun to her head. " _Call a taxi_ -"

 _Blam!_

He flew halfway across the room, nearly ripped into three pieces. What was left of him coated the other table, and Mox had to wince.

"That was for Annette." Fatima hurried to the other table, making sure to kick the officer's remnants in passing.

"Can you hear me?" Mox cut the last of Dragunova's bonds, and gently he pulled her to a sitting position. She mumbled weakly, and his veins flushed cold. "Don't shit me, Reaper: do you hear me, yes or no?"

"Mox?" Finally, she got her voice up. Her eyes fluttered open, and for once they weren't full of derision and scorn. "Took...took your goddamn time, didn't you, alien?"

"You...you claim Reapers are tougher than the average human. I was testing you. For science above all." Mox pulled her to the edge of the table. "Can you walk?"

"If I have to, I will. Whether I can is academic." She put her feet down, and though she swayed and her face went white, Dragunova did in fact stand. She leaned on Mox's shoulder.

"Over here!" Fatima waved, and both Mox and Dragunova looked. The Assault plucked another form up, and if Dragunova was in bad shape, this woman was at death's door. " _Avenger_ : I have the Doctor."

* * *

"Come on, come on..." Gallant swallowed dryly. "Firebrand?"

"On station, sir. Just like she's been the last three times you asked."

"I don't need your snippery, John." Gallant shook with cold sweat, watching the icon representing Menace slip out of the prison facility. Zhang, Dragunova, and Vahlen all three? Angelis would be furious when she got word of this. "I need them back on my ship, now."

"They have to clear the perimeter." Volk didn't argue for long, though. "The sooner Outrider returns, the happier I'll be. I've lost too many good people to the aliens already. If this is one day I don't have to..."

" _This is Kelly_." The woman herself paused, huffing for breath. Gallant hung on her voice, letting its Irish notes wash over him. " _We're close to the far edge of the perimeter. I'm calling Firebrand now_."

"Every sensor in the base is going to light up," Bradford warned.

" _I know, sir. But if we don't call her now, they're going to find the bodies anyway._ "

"Send her in." Gallant didn't care to listen to any counterarguments, so he shut them out. "Send her in and get the team out of there, before-"

 _Blam!_ Distortion flashed all over the holodisplay, and an energy signature sprang up before the team.

Gallant's mouth went dry.

* * *

"Oh...fuck..." Jane swallowed on a dry throat. The chill of frozen Canada's wastes was nothing - _nothing_ \- compared to the internal ice that locked up her limbs and paralyzed her.

" _Where the Elders see you, so they send me_." The Warlock shot his hands to the sky, and pillars of purple crashed down around him, each one disgorging a soldier in black armor before fading away. " _Where I go, so goes the will of the gods! So travel their legions!_ "

"Son of a bitch!" Zhang tackled one soldier before he could get his gun up, and they crashed into the snow, fists flying. Fatima lunged to cover him, shard gun roaring. Red mag-fire split the night, and Jane dove for cover alongside Dragunova, while Mox returned fire.

Jane's eyes fell to Moira Vahlen, cowering under Aileen's arm, white of face and quivering. Her eyes still had light to them, but she held tight to the Specialist every moment, and her wounds oozed blood despite her bandages. Her age lines put more worry in Jane's mind: if she didn't get treatment soon...

"Keep her safe!" Jane lunged to her feet. "Mox, Dragunova is your responsibility!"

"What are you doing?" Aileen tried to cover her with the Bolt Caster. "Jane-"

"Forget that and take care of the Doctor!" Jane brought her weapon up, and she fired on the move. Her shots went wide and high, but the soldiers firing back from the light treeline ahead took cover, even though she wasn't aiming for them.

" _Captain, what are you doing?_ " Bradford demanded. Jane ignored him and fired again.

" _Child! Foolish child!_ " The Warlock snarled as a shot hit his armor, punching enormous dents in it. His pointed teeth came out, and his alloy talons glinted in the angry moonlight. " _You will burn!_ "

"Fuck!" Jane covered her head as purple tendrils shot her way. They tore at her, grabbing at her clothes and hair, pushing deep into her skull-

And then they were repulsed by an iron wall, and Jane realized she could still think.

"... _what have you done?_ " the Warlock demanded.

"Love to chat. Really, I would, but-" _Blam!_

" _Agh!_ " He staggered, and Jane tried to shoot again. Her gun clicked haplessly, and she seized the axe handle protruding over her shoulder instead. She lunged, hacking madly, and the Warlock retreated, blocking with his heavy bracers. Jane caught him in the leg, then went for his head with a jumping strike-

" _You think you are mighty, but you are nothing!_ " The Warlock caught her by the throat, and Jane lost her axe. It tumbled into the snow, and she grabbed at the enormous hand choking her, holding her three feet above the ground. " _Nothing, compared to me - and less against the might of the gods themselves!_ "

"Jane!" A blonde thunderbolt arced across the snow, and she hit the Warlock with her shoulder. "Let her go!"

"Aileen-" Jane screamed as the Warlock threw her. She tumbled head over heels through the air, landing hard on her shoulder. Thankfully the snow cushioned her fall, and she slid almost a dozen feet even as her side lit up angrily. Recognition clicked in a moment later. "Irina!"

" _You have spirit_." The Warlock seized Irina by the forehead, and she shrieked at the top of her lungs. Purple blazed in the air around them, and the Warlock's lips split into an even more hellish smile. " _I wonder if your friend will have what it takes to snuff that spirit before it snuffs her?_ "

* * *

" _How is she, Quinn?_ "

"Hang in there. Just hang on." Aileen tried to ignore the shouting and the fighting just like she was ignoring Gallant, but it was hard. She bit her lip, laying Vahlen gently in the snow. "Let me have a look at you."

"Your weapon." Was that accent German or French? Aileen couldn't tell, and it was pissing her off. "That...that is one of my prototypes."

"Huh?" Aileen glanced at it. "Well. Suppose so." She looked up at the fight. "I...it might make a difference-"

"Heal the Doctor, woman!" Someone ripped the Bolt Caster right from her hands, then her ammunition pouch from around her shoulders. "I'll keep you covered."

"You can barely stand yourself!" Aileen didn't hesitate long though. "Fine, Dragunova. Not like I can stop you anyway." She returned to Vahlen, and winced when she examined the severed digits on both of the scientist's hands. "They...did not go easy on you, did they?"

Vahlen cracked a sick laugh, even as more explosions and gunfire rent the night. "Life never goes easy, young lady: it has gone less easy on me than most."

" _Quinn, I say again: how is she?_ " Gallant only waited about half a second before he sucked in a sharp breath. " _Moira...I need to know, Lieutenant!_ "

"Nessie. Medical scan." Aileen held Vahlen's hand while the GREMLIN obediently buzzed around her, a blue sensor light following the doctor's veins and wounds. Aileen didn't like what popped up on her arm display. "Okay. That's a bit of a mess. But I'm sure once we get you aboard Firebrand...I can at least stabilize you. We've got a kickass infirmary back aboard _Avenger_ -"

"That drone. Does it have a communication relay?"

"Uh." Aileen glanced at Nessie. "Yeah. Viewscreen and everything. Got a call you need to make?"

" _Ja_." Her smile was tired, her smile was strained...and yet there was something eagerly expectant about it. "A call I have delayed for far too long."

* * *

" _Please remain still_."

"Irina!" Jane Kelly ducked backward as the Russian bore down on her. "Remember who you are! Don't make me-"

"Get the Warlock, kid!" Shaojie Zhang launched himself off a trooper's body, bypassing Elena Dragunova bashing his head in with the butt of the Bolt Caster. Mox's bullpup roared and his grapple detonated in the dark, and somewhere Fatima was blowing soldiers to char and splintered flesh with shards of alien alloys. Zhang didn't care about any of it: he had fists.

That was all Irina had too, and Zhang caught her by the shoulders and planted them both into the snow.

She rolled to her feet, and so did he as quickly as he could. Kelly hesitated, but then she ran off into the dark, drawing her other axe, and Zhang had to move in a flash to keep Irina from pursuing her. He caught her around the waist, flinging her back into the snow one-armed.

He got a metal kick to the face for his trouble, and he stumbled with the taste of blood in his mouth.

Irina's arm blurred as she lunged for him, and Zhang squared up, taking a relentless volley of shots on his arms. The moment he had the chance, he kicked, and Irina stumbled again, clutching her ribs. Zhang followed up with a jumping punch, only for her to snap out of the way, surprisingly agile for her impairments. She scored a blow into his face, and when he caught her arm she resorted to headbutting him. His nose cracked from the impact, and more red shot down over his chin. Her eyes glowed the most unnatural purple in the universe.

" _Please do not resist. Glory to the Elders_." Irina caught his throat.

Unfortunately for her, she only had one arm, and Zhang had two, and he proceeded to box her ears. She let out a hissing wail, and Zhang gave her headbutt right back with interest. She collapsed to her good knee, clutching her face.

Zhang was not one for mercy. His spinning hook kick caught her on the cheek and flung her flat on her face in the snow, hard enough he wasn't at all sure her neck hadn't broken for a few seconds.

" _Donut!_ " A stun lancer lunged for him, and Zhang had to dive frantically out of the way. He caught a rock, throwing it to catch his enemy off-guard-

"Chilong!" Fatima appeared for just a moment, and she threw something orange and glowing.

Zhang caught the arc blade by the hilt, and when the lancer came in again, he parried her strike. She stumbled, her blade flying from her grip, and Zhang proceeded to run her through. Unsatisfied, he ripped the mag-rifle from her back, flipped the safety off, and shot her a few times.

Then...

"Clear the line of fire!" Zhang knelt, mindful of his age and his weakness and longing for a cigar. He sighted, waiting until Jane ducked out of the way, then-

 _Blam-blam-blam!_

" _You will burn, perfidious insect!_ " The Warlock leveled a finger at Zhang, and he had to drop the rifle and clutch his head as pain and dazed agony exploded in his skull. He crashed to both knees, trying to kick the angry beam of boiling hate out before it finished with him, but it was too much.

All he saw was Annette, infested and howling in agony...that moment when he claimed the pistol and...

Over and over again...

* * *

"Commander. You have an incoming transmission."

"Not now!" Gallant seethed, clutching his burning chest. "Moira...Moira...why the hell can't Kelly and her team fight a goddamn purple haired nutball..."

"Sir...it's from Menace."

"He's right, Commander." Bradford shot Gallant a look. "It's from Quinn's drone."

Gallant froze. "I..."

Indecision warred with uncertainty with shock. What was this? Was it...no. No, it couldn't...but...

"On screen," someone else said with his voice. "Route it to my com unit, not the speakers."

It took too long. But...but it was almost immediate, and...

It was. It was her. Brown hair, blue eyes...aged, aged twenty years since his last memories, looking more like an aunt than a contemporary now. Her bones were visible under the stretched skin of her cheeks, and she was pale as she shivered in the wild snowfall. White built in her locks and her eyebrows, pasting over her face...

But it was her.

"Moira..."

" _Edward_." She smiled, even if only a little. She raised her hand to touch Nessie's camera, and Gallant reached out toward his own. The illusion of touch was crueler even than the lack of contact could ever be. " _It's been too long since we spoke...Commander_."

"Don't call me that. You don't have to..." Gallant clutched the rail, ignoring the wild race in his chest as something tried to hammer out of his ribcage. His arms burned and boiled from the strength of his grip. He barely even noticed Betos and Volk gently ease down to the bridge main floor, turning their gazes respectfully to the tactical display rather than Gallant's com-screen. "Moira...we're going to get you out of there."

" _I'm sorry, Edward_." Her eyes darkened. " _I made mistakes. I should have tried to contact Bradford rather than move ahead with the Ruler experiments on my own_."

"Should have? Moira, you're going to see him. Not long now." Gallant did his damndest to smile. "We can talk it out then. You can help us figure out how to take them down-"

" _Edward..._ " She chuckled weakly, the sound almost drowned out by an explosion in the background that made the channel fuzz up for a minute. " _You are still a young man when it counts. You haven't..._ " Wonder crept into her eyes. " _You haven't aged a day_."

"Moira!" Gallant swallowed. "You...you just need to stay strong. Breathe in and out and let Lieutenant Quinn take care of you-"

" _Edward, time has never been on our side._ " Vahlen reached to her shirt pocket, hand quivering as if she were twice her age. " _They...they took the picture I kept of you._ "

"The West Point one?" Gallant couldn't help clutching the rail a little tighter. "Before Iraq?"

" _No, Commander. The one John talked you into after we saved Shanghai from Zhang's dreadnought._ " Vahlen shook her head. " _You've always defined yourself too much by what you wish you've never lost, and it's kept you from seeing what you still have._ "

"I don't..." Gallant reached up to wipe at the cold sweat dripping down his neck and over his forehead. "I don't like the way you're talking, Moira."

" _I just...I simply..._ " She sucked in a deep breath, and her face contorted as if with pain. " _Commander, I wish I had been brave enough to have this conversation sooner. If I had...perhaps we could have avoided much._ "

"Moira-"

She mustered another smile - one more, with something final about it. " _Commander..._ "

"Moira!" Gallant nearly lunged when she fell onto her elbow. Quinn started talking, fast and loud, but none of it made sense. The world condensed and focused and narrowed, and pain seared his chest.

" _Don't..._ " Vahlen coughed. " _Don't carry me, Edward, like all the others. Don't define yourself by...by..._ "

" _Moira!_ " Gallant seized at his hair, heedless of Shen and Tygan and Bradford and Quinn and the firefight and anything else, even the shooting agony racing down his arm like a lit-up oil channel.

She fell in the snow, her eyes sliding shut as snow piled up on her face, and, and...

" _Moira!_ "

Someone hit him with a sledgehammer capped with explosives. It drove right into his chest, hitting like a meteor strike hurled from the base of an Elder's ship with fury aplenty. Agony lit him up like a Christmas tree, spiraling outward from the point of impact along every nerve and synapse in his system...

" _Commander!_ " Lily was the one to dive onto her knees as Gallant tumbled from his perch, crashing down the stairs in a screaming heap of devastated pain. She caught his head before it cracked on the bridge floor, and the last thing Gallant saw before the kalediscope of Hell consumed his world was Vahlen's image on the viewscreen-

* * *

"Hey, asshole!" Jane swung low, and she caught the Warlock on the back of his calf. He howled, purple whirling around his arms.

" _Maybe I cannot harm you, Ranger, but they can!_ " The shrieking of ten thousand damned souls filled Jane's world, and violet forms burst from the snow, glowing and clawing their way into the air. She spun and slashed the first one to emerge, but the others howled, shining with inner light-

"Head down!" The Bolt Caster went off a moment later, and Jane plunged her face into the snow as the shot slammed into one of the ruptured spectral zombies.

The explosion sent snow flying in all directions. Jane rolled as the force of the blast moved her, too, and she covered her head when an Advent helmet came down right where her head had just been. People screamed on all sides, and she belatedly realized she was one of them.

" _It doesn't matter!_ " The Warlock pulled at his hair, and purple psi-tendrils came out with his grip. He flung them at Dragunova, and she howled, fighting her way through the motions of reloading the Bolt Caster. " _You are weak, Reaper! I will break your mind in twain_ -"

"Shut the fuck up!" Jane lunged to her feet again, fetching her axe from the snow and driving it into the small of his back. His armored plating buckled and bent, and the Warlock roared in agony. Jane hefted the axe again. "Shut! The! Fuck! U-"

The Warlock caught her with both hands, and Jane cried out when he sank his teeth into her forearm. Malice glinted in his eyes as red coated his chin.

" _You taste sweet_ ," he snarled, pulling her in close. " _Like rotten fruit!_ "

"Captain, get the hell out of there!"

Jane spared one glance for the talker. One, at first, then two when she realized what was happening. She yanked hard, but the Warlock held her tight, pulling with his superior strength.

" _You would make a fine pet_ ," he mused, " _if only I removed your protection. Perhaps Angelis would like you? Yes, I think she would. I should bring you to her as a gift_."

Power built in the air. Jane's breath came in ragged, and she tasted the energy on her tongue. If she didn't act quickly...but she couldn't break the Warlock's grip. She wasn't strong enough, not alone-

Jane pointed her arm at the nearest tree, and fired the Spider Suit's grapple.

" _What are you doing_ -"

The line sunk into a branch as thick as Jane was tall, and then her motor whirred. Jane yelped as agony exploded down her arm, building pressure on her shoulder until she thought it would tear the limb from its socket. She slid through the snow, still caught in the Chosen's grip.

Then another line shot out, this one seizing the Warlock around the neck. Mox yanked, and Dragunova and Zhang seized the line with him. Together, their combined force was enough to get the Warlock to stumble.

Enough to get him to let go.

"Everyone, _get down!_ " Fatima cried, as Jane shot clear of the Warlock. The Assault leveled her own wrist, and up popped the built-in device Shen had affixed to the EXO suit. A lone projectile arced out, looking almost beautiful in the dark.

Until it hit the Warlock dead in the chest, and the detonation obliterated half the glade.

"Shit!" Jane flew, her line breaking from the overpressure. She tumbled as fire shot up like a pyre and signal, melting snow and hurling it in great wafting waves. White powder cascaded over her, and Jane covered her head. Her _virgin_ head: her ballcap was gone, lost somewhere in her flight. Smoke billowed past her, and she stumbled through it, keeping as low as she could. The world rang and echoes, and her legs wavered under her with every step.

"Captain!" That was faint, but understandable. Fatima appeared through the smoke, eyes ablaze with vengeance. "I think we got it!"

"Good!" Jane finally made it out of the cloud to where the Assault stood vigil. She keyed her com. "Firebrand? I don't know where the hell you are, chick, but you better get your ass out here on the double. There'll be more of them!"

" _Hang tight. I'm almost there!_ "

"All call signs, check in!" Jane staggered into white snow. Her foot hit something, and Jane let out a gasp when she saw her cap, smoldering but intact. She seized it, but didn't bother putting it back in place just yet. "Is anyone still alive?"

"I'm here!" Irina stuck her hand up in the distance. "What the hell hit me?"

"I did." Zhang took her hand. "Several times."

"We're alive." Mox sheltered Dragunova under his arm, while she trembled and shivered. "Captain, Elena will not survive this cold much longer, even if we are not pursued."

"Firebrand's on the way." Jane glanced at Fatima again, then hurried back to the rear. "Aileen?"

"I'm..." She didn't finish the sentence. Jane picked up the pace until her form materialized in the dark. She knelt in the snow, and there in front of her...

"The Doctor!" Jane scrambled over to them. "Aileen, what happened-"

"Captain..." Aileen reached out, and she put two fingers on the side of Doctor Vahlen's neck.

For a moment, everything was very quiet.

"...no pulse."

* * *

 **Author's Note 54: Guess Fatima Should Have Exercised More Restraint**

I find it interesting to watch soldiers running through snow, ice, grass, water, deserts, and all the other biomes in the game wearing exactly the same clothes. I mean, it's reasonable for some outfits, but those Reaper cloaks look viciously hot in deserts. And I'm not even getting into what happens if you make stripper soldiers and send them into action in Siberia! Feel bad, you pervert. Don't feel bad enough to stop doing it, because that's half of what we play the game for, but feel bad about it.

This chapter was originally supposed to cover a good bit more material, but I had to split it for time. I'm not entirely happy with how I did it, but I had to do something. I hope the next chapter doesn't come across too wonky as a result of these changes, but that's what I don't get paid to worry about.

Until next time, _Vigilo Confido_.


	55. Deep Breath

_Please remember to favorite and follow!_

* * *

 _"And here we...go!"_

 _~The Joker, The Dark Knight_

* * *

 **Chapter Fifty-five: Deep Breath**

"Move!" John Bradford fairly hauled Charlotte out of the way. She stumbled into the far wall - then flattened herself against it when Shen and Tygan raced past, pushing their gurney at a dead run. Volk and Betos made up the rear, while soldiers peeled out of the bar to join the impromptu procession.

"Get the hell out of the way!" Bradford pitched Liang out of the way next, then bulldozed through the hissing pneumatic doors at the entrance to the infirmary. "Doc!"

"What happened?" The nurse bounded from her office, sheet-white. "Did he fall?"

"The Commander's entered cardiac arrest. He's having a goddamn heart attack." Bradford grabbed the gurney and hauled it into the center of the room. Shen and Tygan hovered, but he just grabbed at Gallant's shirt, snapping his combat knife from its sheath on his shoulder to start cutting. "Stabilize him!"

"I...oh, Lord..." She scrambled to her cabinets of medical supplies. "I don't...we don't..."

"Fix him!" Bradford finished cutting open Gallant's shirt, and he exposed the Commander's chest. Gallant didn't fight him, which frightened Bradford more than anything else: he was still, so still...

"Let me get my ECG gear-"

"He's _in_ cardiac arrest, there's no time for that!" Shen grabbed random drawers and yanked them out of their housings. "He needs _treatment_ , not a test. Are you a doctor or not?"

"I'm not..." The nurse's face paled even further. "I've never done this before-"

" _Move, you stupid bimbo!_ "

A redheaded thunderbolt nearly flung the nurse off her feet, and then it tore into her medical supplies like a whirlwind. Bradford reached up to catch a long wire flung his way.

"Vital scanner. Fingertip!" Julie Richardson swept up a bottle and a syringe, and then she was back with both in hand. She tossed the former to the next person close to hand, who happened to be Tygan. "Aspirin. See if you can get him to swallow some of that." She kicked the nurse on the shin, none-too-gently. "If you've got any morphine or weed, now would kick ass."

"Hang in there, Commander." Bradford fixed the vital scanner to Gallant's finger, and a monitor beeped to life.

"What are you doing?" Shen demanded, as Julie inserted the syringe into Gallant's arm. The psi-op waved dismissively.

"Clotbuster. Now hush." She glanced up at the monitor. "Come on, let the drugs flow through you. Don't make me go to coronary agnioplasty-"

"Morphine!" The nurse hurried over with a syringe of it, and Julie plucked it from her hand without a word. She injected it, then dispatched the nurse on the hunt for more clotbusters.

"He's not swallowing," Tygan reported. He glanced up at the monitor. "His vitals are dropping. He's-"

 _Beeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeep_!

"Oh, fuck." Bradford clutched the edge of the gurney as the single loud tone he knew from shitty medical dramas filled the infirmary. "He's flatlining-"

"Can the panic or get out of my ward, old man." Julie checked the monitor herself, face screwing up. "Shit. Defibrilator!"

"We don't have one!"

"What?" Bradford nearly seized the nurse then and there. "What kind of infirmary is this?"

"We're not an ER, Central...we...we had to prioritize treatment for the wounded! We don't see a lot of heart attacks-"

"Get Junior up here!" Shen slapped Charlotte on the arm. "Or your GREMLIN. Maybe its shock can-"

"Not enough time. Fucking hell, this is shit!" Julie's eyes flashed purple, then glowed. "We lost _how many_ people finding you?" She raised her hands, and Bradford had to take a step back as violet lightning arced between her fingers. "I don't care that you're a stuck-up arrogant prick, jackass, _you're my stuck-up arrogant prick!_ "

She brought her palms down on his chest, and Gallant jerked as purple psi-energy shot over his whole body. Bradford shook, and Shen quivered.

"You're not fucking getting out of the job you hate this easily!" Julie shocked him again, then again, manic light filling her eyes. "She did not keep your stupid ass out of the grave for so long just for you to check out on a whim, dick!"

Julie's hands came down again, harder and more firmly. Enough power shot over Gallant's body that Bradford had to cover his eyes.

"Richardson, you're gonna kill him!" he cried. "Stand down-"

 _Beep! Beep!_

" _Moira!_ " Gallant jerked convulsively, and Bradford lunged to catch his shoulder. Julie waved the lightning on her fingers away, and she grabbed Gallant's other arm.

"He's responding!" She grabbed the aspirin bottle. "Take this-"

" _Moira-_ "

Bradford's jaw dropped when Julie slapped the Commander. Gallant's eyes glazed over, but he did quiet, staring at her in an entirely new light.

"Take the goddamn pills before I have to force-feed you." She offered the bottle, and Gallant mechanically reached for it. The redhead abandoned him to the task, stepping back and waving her hand until purple billowed around her face like a mask. She pursed her lips. "Stress-induced. Vitals are returning to normal. The busters are clearing it all up."

"And how do you know that without an X-ray?" the nurse demanded. Julie gave her a scathing sidelong look.

"I'm not dignifying that with a response." She lowered her hand. "Bed rest. And he doesn't spend a moment alone from here on out. He could have another attack at any moment."

"I'm not made of glass-"

"You're doped up on morphine and clotbusters, Commander: you don't get a say in these decisions." Julie leaned on the gurney, hair scattering around her face as she breathed out. "Put him in his room and move the medical gear up there. Anything happens, call me first."

Gallant's head thumped back down. He stared at the ceiling, and Bradford could only watch as his eyes hazed and glinted.

"Sir-"

"Just take me off and shut up." Gallant deliberately turned his head. "It doesn't matter anymore, does it?"

"Sir." Sylvie poked her head in, while Shen and Tygan took Gallant's gurney. "Central, Firebrand is on approach. Menace is standing by for debrief."

* * *

"Stupid piece of cow shit..."

"Shen can build you a better one." Jane examined the spindly knee joint in Irina's prosthetic leg. "Yeah, this is crappy. I would have expected Advent to make something that wasn't total-"

"They wanted it to break. It made me more dependent on them, and reduced the chance of my escaping. If you hadn't brought this ship in, I wouldn't have made it." Irina looked around the Skyranger's drop bay, wonder temporarily eclipsing the other lights in her eyes. "You really moved up in the world, Jane."

"Yeah." She shook her head. "Irina...I don't know how you could have survived that explosion."

"Makes two of us, doesn't it? But here I am, ornery as ever." She shifted her weight. "They told me you were dead."

"I helped Central extract the Commander from Paris." If Jane lived to be a hundred and five - as if - she would never stop being proud of that. "I was the first one into the black site in Switzerland."

"And you're very modest about it."

"This little catch-up session is nice and all, but..." Aileen glanced from one member of the crew to the next. "Just what the hell are we supposed to tell Gallant and Bradford? About..."

"You did everything you could." Mox put a hand on her shoulder. "No one here questions your ability as a medic."

"He's going to flip his shit." Fatima crossed her arms. She scowled, leaning against the drop bay door. "Gallant's never been the type to take bad news well. I bet he had a heart attack."

"Fatima." Zhang looked up, and there was warning in his eyes. "Don't speak of such things. Didn't you notice that he dropped off comms after Vahlen..."

Jane jumped. "Shit. Do you think he really..."

"Maybe we won't have to report to him after all," Dragunova mused. She got a pass. One, she was wounded, high on painkillers, and leaning on Mox's shoulder. Two, she could probably still kick Jane's ass, so she wasn't going to say anything.

"Nothing's ever broken that man before, much as he likes to piss and moan." Zhang stood. "He'll be fine."

"Unlike me."

"Aileen, no one blames you." Jane scoffed. "You did the best you could do under the circumstances."

"Yeah, so did Mariah, and look at her now."

Jane's veins flushed with ice. "Central won't."

"What happened tonight was a hundred times worse than anything Mariah ever did." Aileen's eyes filled with dark premonition. "Shit rolls downhill."

"Central won't. _Won't_." Jane's fists clenched. "He'd better not try it."

"This isn't helping anything." Mox paused to glance at Dragunova. "Firebrand, how much longer?"

"We're on approach now." She keyed her com. "Firebrand on approach. The word of the day is _Horatius_. How copy, over?"

" _Five by five, Firebrand. Horatius it is_." That was Shen's voice, not Bradford's. " _Your end?_ "

"Five by five, _Avenger_ , but I'm picking up an audio distortion. Sounds like metal fatigue. Channel thirteen."

" _I'll have someone look into it_."

"I'm very curious." Irina couldn't stand on her own, so she tried to crane her neck to peer out the windshield. "I've heard a lot about the _Avenger_ , but I've never seen her."

"Just you wait." Jane reached over to put a hand on her shoulder. "Just you wait."

* * *

Meysam Saleh paused. "Hey, Corporal."

"That's no longer accurate." Mariah Bradford continued mopping, eyes locked on the trail of cleaning fluid she left behind with every stroke. "I don't have a rank anymore."

"Well, whatever may be the case in that department-"

"Don't take my word for it, Meysam: take Central's-"

"That's hardly relevant to-"

"I don't need everyone looking after me!" Mariah's eyes darkened, and now she deliberately turned her shoulder. "I'm fine! It is what it is, and if it's what's necessary for the war, Central was right to do it. I'm not a baby who needs coddling-"

"Mariah!" Meysam cleared his throat. "Mariah, I'm sorry, bu this has nothing to do with you!"

"...what?" She finally looked his way...and paused. "...Meysam?"

"It's not for you, it's for me. I'm selfish, that's the truth of it." He held up the bottle and glasses he'd brought from below. "If you can be spared from your action station for fifteen minutes, I thought _I_ would enjoy having a drink with you."

"...selfish, huh?" Mariah slowly leaned her mop against the wall. "That's not usually how you're supposed to ask a girl for a drink."

"Most girls I've talked to don't start yelling at me for insinuating I'm not selfish."

"I'm more trouble than I'm worth."

"You're a woman: that comes with the territory."

"Yet here you are."

"Are we going to stand here in the hall until Angelis personally comes a-matchmaking, or are we going to drink?" Meysam gestured with the bottle. "It's good stuff - well, as good as you can get on the _Avenger_. It's a lot better than the best I ever wooed with back in Syria."

"I'm on-duty-"

"You're _mopping the corridor_. I'm dead positive that your taking ten won't cost us the war." Meysam did pause to give a show of thinking about it, thought. "If you think differently, though, maybe I should grab a mop and help."

"Oh, all right! You win." Mariah shot a worried glance over her shoulder. "I just hope..."

"How much of an enophile are you?" Whatever Meysam had to do to get Bradford off of his daughter's mind, he would do it in a heartbeat. As long as she was thinking about Central, she would be anxious and tense. Not to mention she wouldn't be thinking about _him_. Maybe he was more selfish than not. At least he didn't pretend otherwise.

"Enophile?" She frowned. Meysam wished she'd let her curls fall free like she had in her soldiering days - a neat little bun made her look about ten years older and appropriately devoid of personality.

"Means wine-lover."

"Big word. I like big words." She taste-tested that one for a moment. "I don't think I've ever drunk wine before, to be honest."

"You-" Meysam sighed. "I keep forgetting how young you are."

A flash of Mariah appeared in her eyes, if only for a moment. "Guess that makes you a pervert, huh?"

"You know what, Bradford?" Meysam stuck his tongue out, and she made as if to grab her mop.

Then they laughed. And Meysam handed her a glass, and he pulled the cork from the bottle.

They never got the chance to drink.

* * *

"Oh...good Lord, Sylvie, that hits the spot." Julie made a catlike noise, reflexively throwing her head back. She inhaled, relishing the moment. "Why don't you do this for me more often?"

"Because you insist on cooking everything yourself, _American_." Sylvie, seated at Julie's right, waited until she'd collected herself before forking up another bite of her homemade waffles and proffering it. Julie bit it off in a flash, and then she was all in heaven again.

"You two are beyond disgusting. Get a psi-cubicle." Shen shot them a rude gesture on top of everything else.

"Go back to your room of robots. Program a GREMLIN to make you feel better." Julie gave the finger right back.

"Bah." The engineer scoffed, then returned to her work station monitoring _Avenger_ 's diagnostics. Around them, the bridge chuckled. Ribbing aside, they gave Julie and Sylvie space. They also muttered about what had happened in the infirmary, and that was embarrassing.

"Do you two know how many fraternization regs you're breaking right now?"

"Sixteen." Sylvie forked up another bite, and Julie wasn't stupid enough to turn it down. "Any more foolish questions, Central?"

Bradford let out a strangled chuckle. "You are unflappable, Richard."

"No. I just pretend very well."

"Yeah, she convinced the entire ship she wasn't-" Julie showed the sense to shut up right there, before Sylvie's warning eye could become something a lot worse. She cleared her throat. "Anyway. Central. Do you need something?"

"I..." He shifted his weight. "I just wanted to thank you. For what you did in the medbay earlier."

"It's..." Julie coughed. "I probably humiliated our poor nurse."

"She'll get over it. And so will the Commander, all thanks to you." Bradford let out a low sigh. "I know...I'm not the best suited to say this, but..."

"You're scaring me." Julie braced. "Mop duty?"

"No!" He bit back down on himself a moment later. "I just wanted to say you reminded me a lot of your aunt, that's all. Penny would have done exactly what you did."

"I mean, I'd think so. She's the one who taught me." Julie, cheeks hot, studied her shoes very intently. "She'd have done it better. She was with him for years. I've got months, maybe."

"That may be, but she'd be proud of you." Bradford hesitantly reached out and patted Julie's shoulders. "It may not be my place to say it, but-"

"Central, you're the one who took care of me for those years after Aunt Penny..." Julie cleared her throat. "She's all I had, and after she died, that left me with-"

"I'm proud of you, Julie." Bradford took his own turn to clear his throat. "You've really done well here."

"Well, thank you, sir." Awkward was one thing, but this was another level. Unbidden, her mind flicked back to her brownie-conversation with Mariah, and Julie licked her lips. "Uh, sir..."

"Julie?"

"I..." She braced herself, drawing on Sylvie's presence for strength even if her girlfriend had no idea what was about to happen. "The thing about all that..."

She never got the chance to finish her thought.

* * *

"You look well, considering what just happened, Commander."

"Thanks for the fucking..." Gallant broke off, massaging his chest. "I don't know what Julie did with her witchery, but I don't recall being this spry after a heart attack before."

"Modern medicine is more developed than that of our time." Shaojie Zhang sat backwards on Gallant's bedroom chair, while the Commander himself lounged in his bed, propped up by fifteen thousand pillows. "I'm quite hale for having been rescued last night."

"Maybe." Gallant left it there, because he had more to worry about. "Moira."

"Ah, yes." Zhang shifted his weight. "My condolences, Commander. She was my friend too."

"Hm." Gallant fought the pain pricking at the backs of his eyes, and he fought the shaking in his hands and shoulders. He focused on the Heavy to the exclusion of all else, from agony to weakness to thought, and all that mattered were the simple questions. "Where are the rest of her resources?"

"There are none, Commander. She pulled everything together in Poland, and when the Hunter struck, that was everything we had."

"Fuck." Gallant growled under his breath. Business, that was the key: that would keep his mind off of the fact that the only woman he would ever love was... "Your team? Fatima only knew about Said."

"Annette is dead, Commander." Haunted light filled Zhang's eyes. "I know because I killed her." With a few terse sentences, he explained himself.

"Damn it." Gallant thought of some of his own experiences in Iraq. "I like to think I'd have had the guts to do the same thing."

"War. War hardens us all." Zhang shifted his weight. "Marcel and Matthew are dead as well. Carlock and Van Doorn."

"Whatever happened to Hutch?"

"He helped us set up the base, but Advent caught on to him before too long. Shadow Man sent us in to extract him, but we were too late. He blew himself up to avoid being taken alive." Zhang sighed. "That was the op when we lost Malin Larsen."

"Shit." Gallant contemplated the few broken tools in his arsenal. No Moira...no Furies, no Annette...just Fatima and a badly scarred Zhang. "What did they want from you?"

"They asked general questions. Confirming that they'd eliminated the Doctor's cell, mostly. I didn't know she was in the same facility."

"What's the next move?" Gallant leaned forward. "The aliens have never played softball. A body in motion stays in motion, and a force on the attack remains on the attack unless repulsed by a stiff defense. Where are they going next?"

"I don't know for certain. I know they took Dragunova to Data Extraction - the torture center. She might be able to tell you more." Zhang paused. "The Warlock interrogated her personally at least twice."

"The Warlock..." Gallant bit his lip. "That son of a bitch has been all over my ops for months."

"And the Doctor's. Of all the Chosen, I think he is the most dangerous." Zhang paused. "That's what put us under Advent's hammer, actually."

"Come again?" Gallant frowned.

"Just before the base assault..." Zhang let out a low breath. "We recovered intel that pinpointed the location of the Warlock's hideaway: on a remote island in the South Pacific. And we deduced how to breach the security protocols and enter."

"You what?" Gallant's eyes widened. His grief melted quickly into obsessive rage. "You mean to tell me-"

He never got the chance to finish the sentence.

* * *

"Anything?" Cameron Rogers stood in the hangar bay, partner in crime on his left. Together, they admired the sky outside of the great viewscreen.

"No. I don't think it's Kelly, and I _really_ don't think it's Central." Da-Xia Liang ground her teeth. "Leaves the Shens, really: the Shens, Kipler, and Tygan."

"We focus on Kipler next, then. What brought him here, what makes him tick...he's the most likely suspect." Cameron thrust his hands into his pockets. "I don't trust strangers bearing gifts. He comes in out of nowhere...he could have sold us out."

"He could have." Liang nodded judiciously. "I'll dig through his refuse."

"I'll tail him around the ship, see where he goes."

"We meet again in two days with results. Or if we find anything."

"And the codeword is _rainbow_." Cameron shrugged. "I just picked one at random."

"I'll try to remember it if I've been coerced." Liang hesitated. "Cameron...suppose we do find out that we were set up?"

He grunted. "The Commander-"

"Is not in his right mind or best health."

"Central-"

"-could be the agent. Not to mention Mariah."

Cameron let out a low breath. "We settle it ourselves. Maybe bring Captain Kelly on board. Or Mariah herself."

"It's something." Liang's jaw worked. "Cameron...something's wrong. There's a spy on the ship and the op in Canada went to hell..."

"I know." He made sure his pistol was still holstered under his jacket, even if it violated every regulation the Armory had. "Liang-"

"Wait." She caught his arm. "Let me get something off my chest first."

"What?" Cameron turned-

She kissed him. She popped up on tip-toe and put her lips to his, and for a moment there they stood.

"...what?" Cameron blinked, reaching up to touch his mouth the instant she let go. "Liang-"

"I hope that's not a problem." She managed a tight smile.

"Well..."

He never got the chance to respond.

"Wait." Cameron stared out the rear viewscreen, and he narrowed his eyes. "Liang..."

"What?" She blinked. "I'm sorry...Cameron, I didn't mean-"

"No...no!" He frowned harder. "I could have sworn I saw..."

* * *

"Target is locked, Mighty Hunter. All weapons systems are at full capacity."

" _Can I borrow them for a moment?_ " He popped another lemon drop, thumbs flying as he worked on his datapad. " _Curse the hole you spawned from, Pinky!_ "

The weapons tech seemed more than a little nonplussed. "General?"

"Yes." Din Dourde cleared her throat. "Sir?"

" _Oh, yes. What's the movie quote?_ " He cleared his throat. " _'You may fire when ready_.'"

"Very well." The reference went right over Dourde's head, which was probably for the best. She turned to the weapons tech, and her eyes went to the silhouette on the targeting screen. "All forward EMP batteries, on my mark."

Her lips parted as she examined the _Avenger_ , docile and defenseless and in her sights.

"Fire."

* * *

 **Author's Note 55: Best Mission Ever**

I realize I'm in the minority, but I **love** this mission. Base defense has that thrill of death and devastation to make it matter more than your aggressive field ops. I wish it could happen more than once per game.

I've always suspected XCOM's on-board medical team must be incompetent. How else do you explain a soldier getting nicked by a single shot for 1 damage...and needing 30 days in the infirmary? Bullshit, all of it. Clearly he's malingering to hit on the cute nurse.

Now, the elephant in the room: you all know that, no matter what happens next, the _Avenger_ is getting off the ground, otherwise this fic is over - although I did have an idea for an XCOM fic based on the aliens taking the ship and the survivors of the Resistance fleeing into the wilds. If you want to write that, consider it a prompt: I'm not doing it.

What you don't know? Exactly who's coming off the ground _with_ the ship.

I'll leave you to mull over that.

Until next time, _Vigilo Confido_.


	56. The Plunge

_Please remember to favorite and follow!_

* * *

 _"We shall go on to the end...we shall defend our island, whatever the cost may be. We shall fight on the beaches, we shall fight on the landing grounds, we shall fight in the fields and the streets, we shall fight in the hills; we shall never surrender."_

 _~Winston Churchill_

* * *

 **Chapter Fifty-six: The Plunge**

Cameron Rogers was the only one to see it coming. From the clouds burst two bolts of emerald energy, sizzling and crackling within the containment fields that kept the semi-solid projectiles intact and clustered on their approach.

"Get down!" He had time to seize Liang and tackle her to the floor. He had time to spot Firebrand appear in her drop bay door, frowning. And he had time to frantically wave her way.

"Moose-"

Liang never finished her question: she screamed instead when the EMP charges hit _Avenger_ 's spine, and every light went out at the same time as the ship rocked. Gravity imploded, and inertia hurled Cameron and Liang toward the ceiling. Firebrand cried out, flying back into her pride and joy, and techs went soaring in every direction. Cameron's stomach turned.

Across the ship, Meysam Saleh had no warning. In an instant _Avenger_ rocked and the lights went out, and he shot for the ceiling. Reflex took over, and he caught Mariah by the shoulders and pulled her in tight, turning so his own back took the brunt of impact with the ceiling rather than hers. Her shoulder plunged into his chest, and Meysam let out a strangled cry - one drowned out by the brunette's sudden shriek.

Commander Edward Gallant seized his bedsheets in a death-grip more on reflex than anything else, while Zhang caught the foot of his bed. Thankfully it was anchored to the deck - unfortunately, the sheets weren't, and the last thing Gallant heard before he went into the ceiling head-first was Zhang shouting something he couldn't make out.

"Hang on!" Julie Richardson sent out a burst of psi-energy a moment later, even as the bridge lights flickered on and off. Before anyone could shoot off, her will pinned them to the deck. Her eye twitched and her brain seared with pain - how many assholes were on the bridge, again? - but Sylvie jumped in almost immediately, adding her power in another burst of purple.

"We've lost power! We're going down!" Bradford seized the railing, setting his teeth. "Everyone, hold on!"

"This isn't possible!" Shen typed frantically, using what little energy remained in the system to run diagnostics. "There's no damage to the engines!"

"Electromagnetic pulse?" Julie found the presence of mind to demand.

"Must be." Shen's fingers flew, even as her hair started going up with the waning of Julie and Sylvie's power. "If I can just bypass all this alien circuitry..."

"Shen." Bradford cleared his throat, ostentatiously watching the altimeter unwind.

"Interface ready!" Shen froze as red flashed over her screen. "Someone on the system is overwriting my commands!"

" _Shen!_ " Bradford shot her a glare.

"Right!" She abandoned her console, and the engineer darted across the bridge.

"Damn it!" Julie felt her power slip, and once that happened it was all one quick downhill fuckslide. Sylvie couldn't hold the bridge alone, and Julie shot upward with a howl.

A hand locked on hers. Bradford's grip was iron, his eyes full of manic intensity, and his snarl determined. His other hand stayed on the rail, even as his feet left the deck.

"Chief!" Sylvie's face filled with uncertainty, but she abandoned her task in a heartbeat. Techs went flying to join Julie, and not all of them could get a good hold on anything that would keep them down. Sylvie's hands glowed purple, and she fired all of her strength at Shen - even abandoning herself, and Julie's other hand shot out almost without thinking to catch her girlfriend's ankle.

"You idiot!" Julie cried. Sylvie's response was unintelligible: a moment later, she vomited.

"Got it!" Shen, held down by Sylvie's psi-power, ripped a panel off the wall. She crouched, twisting on a wheel Julie hadn't even known was there until-

 _Boom!_ Something kicked _Avenger_ in the pants, and then Julie ground back down toward the deck. Bradford hauled her in, and then they hauled Sylvie, until Central had the pair under his arms.

"Backup power is online, but it isn't enough to get us flying again." Shen glanced at the altimeter...and paled. "Uh-"

"Everyone, get down!" Bradford hauled Julie and Sylvie to the floor-

The world ended when _Avenger_ hit the ground with an enormous impact and tremendous vibration-

* * *

"...still in one piece?" General Dourde nodded slowly, examining the hulk of the enemy ship where it lay amidst thick, battered woodland. She turned to the chair behind her. "Hunter, sir, I recommend we deploy a strike team to the crash site immediately."

" _Can we send Blinky?_ " The Hunter scowled, sucking on his lemon drop as he did his thing. " _I think he'd make mincemeat of Jane Kelly. He's certainly kicking my ass_."

"I think he'd get lonely without Clyde, sir."

The Hunter stared at her for a long minute. " _Who are you, General, and what have you done with Din Dourde?_ "

"It's more a question of what _you_ did to Din Dourde." She turned back to her bridge crew. "Deploy the strike team. Send a transmission each to Angelis and the Richmond military base. And fetch the Darklance."

" _And if you get one measly fingerprint on my trigger guard..._ " The Hunter considered. " _I don't know what I'll do to you just yet, but I promise it'll be bad. How's that?_ "

"Terrifying, sir."

" _That's what I thought_."

"I'm happy to be of service." Dourde examined the lamed _Avenger_ again, and her lips twitched. "Today, we put an end to this rebellion once and for all."

" _Do you have to be dramatic about it?_ " The Hunter sighed. " _I'm going to have to work, aren't I_?"

* * *

The world swam in and out of focus: distorted and vague. Throbbing pain...

"Oh... _shit_..."

Everything was red. Was that Julie, seeing blood? No, the lights...the lights were red. They cast a hell-pallor of scarlet over everything, which did really well as far as promising portents went.

"Sylvie?" Julie rolled onto her side, swearing as the world tried to spin around her. _Avenger_ must have landed in the water, because she was pitching and rocking like a big, ugly boat. "Sylvie, did you die?"

" _Oui_." She must have been thrown across the bridge during the crash, because that's where she was, gamely seizing the center rail and pulling herself to one knee. Julie supposed the dazed light in her girlfriend's eyes was a mirror for her own. " _Et toi?_ "

"Someone get me a damage report!" Bradford finished clambering up, and he paused to rub at the back of his neck. "Haven't been in a crash like that since '07-"

 _Blam!_ The ship vibrated, and all the computers fizzed and sparked. Julie made it back to her feet just in time to duck as electricity shot out from every monitor and processor.

"We've got a problem."

"No shit, Shen: only one?" Bradford loomed over her shoulder, eyeing the computer she somehow was keeping online.

"What's going on?" The door didn't open with hydraulic hissing, but instead a couple of Reapers yanked it wide. Volk and Betos hurried in, the former with blood running over his cheek that he didn't seem to notice.

"We crashed." Julie felt something trickling over her chin, and supposed that made her an honorary Reaper.

"What would we do without you?" Volk ignored her from there on out, and Julie had to catch Sylvie's arm before a chair flew.

"They've deployed some kind of...spike...out there." Shen typed, and a little map of the surrounding area appeared on her display. "It's generating the same type of pulse that blew us out of the sky."

"...that means we're stuck here." Julie swallowed. "That means we're right where Advent wants us."

"They _don't_ want us." Bradford's teeth set. "They want the ship."

"That we are _on_ -"

"Override it." Volk gestured sharply to the terminal. "Can't you do something, Shen?"

"Not from here. And not with..." She trailed off, eyes darkening. "I think-"

"We're going to have to do this the old-fashioned way." Bradford keyed his com. "Commander? Commander Gallant?" He swore a moment later. "He's not responding."

"Not right now's problem." Volk ignored the harsh look Bradford sent his way. "We need to take that device out. I'll send my Reapers as forward scouts."

"And my Skirmishers-"

"Belay that, both of you." Bradford hurried back to the center of the bridge. "Keep your people here as a fighting reserve. We can't take chances with something like this. If the aliens take this ship, the war is over."

"Where's Kelly?" Shen demanded.

"Find her. Rouse the entire complement. I want anyone who can hold a rifle out there gunning for that device."

"That means us, I presume." Julie scurried for the door, heedless of her bleeding nose. "Come on, Sylvie!"

* * *

Richard Tygan groaned, grabbing onto the first lab counter he could reach for support. Laboriously, he got his legs under him.

"What happened?" He clutched his head. "Did we crash?"

"We've been shot down. Alien hunter craft!" Kipler wiped hot coffee off his arm, grimacing in the red light. "I've probably got a burn..."

" _All hands to General Quarters!_ " The speaker hissed and fizzled after that. It didn't resume, and Tygan knew what that meant.

"Our secondary batteries must have been drained during the emergency landing. We don't have much power left." He hurried to his computer. "Jiaying? Are you still here?"

"She left just before the crash." Johannes Vermuelen popped up from behind a computer bank. "Said she had something to talk to the other Shen about."

"Find her." Tygan waited while his machine laboriously began the boot process. "Make sure she's safe. Doctor Kipler and I will make our way to the bridge-"

 _Wham!_

"What was that?" Kipler's gaze shot upward, past the SHADOW Chamber's flickering lights. "Something hit the ship."

"Yes." Tygan's blood ran cold. He quickly hunted through his machine, pulling up any data he could find. "Not only is our primary power core deactivated, but..."

 _Wham! Wham!_

"Vermuelen?"

"He's already left, Richard." Kipler hesitated. "Shouldn't we be off to the bridge?"

"I think that would be most unwise." Tygan issued another set of commands. "I am connecting this terminal to the ship's mainframe, and sealing the SHADOW Chamber to external entrance."

"Why?" Kipler demanded, as the doors jerked, hissed, and slid inward until they _whooshed_ with a solid pneumatic seal. "Richard, that locks us in here away from everyone else on the ship-"

"Exactly." Tygan inhaled. "Unless I am severely mistaken, Doctor, we have uninvited guests landing on the hull."

* * *

"Suit up and check weapons! Everyone kit at full. We get one shot at this." Jane caught Cameron by the arm when she spotted him checking his sidearm. "Shadowkeeper, Sergeant."

"It's not here, Captain."

"Where the hell is it?" Jane swore. "Fine. Take your peashooter."

"What do I do?" Irina sat at the edge of the mess, her prosthetic still a piece of shit. She had a long metal rod she was using as a crutch, but there was no bloody way...

"Bridge. I want you riding shotgun on Central." Jane claimed a rifle from the rack and tossed it. Irina caught it without missing a beat.

"Could use a lift."

"I don't have anyone to spare." Jane had to ease out of the way then: Junior stomped through the madness in the Armory, helix cannon spooling up. His BIT followed, and then it was chaos as the GREMLINs descended on Aileen and Charlotte. Julie and Sylvie seized guns and extra mags, amps already glowing with power, and there was Liang, picking up a mag-cannon and not looking at Cameron in a very ostentatious way.

"I can't get there on my own." Irina's eyes darkened as she admitted it, but now was clearly not a time for false pride. "I can-"

"You can not be heavy, that's the best you can do, Comrade." Firebrand appeared from the next best thing to nowhere, throwing Irina's arm over her shoulders. "Now just don't suck too badly and we'll get up just fine."

"Don't die," Jane urged. Irina shot her a withering look: withering enough she winced.

"I'm not the one running out into battle, am I?"

"She's got a point, Jane." David appeared at her side, while Kang and Nui took their weapons and hurried past. "Advent's got us backed into a corner. There's going to be blood on the floor before it's over. No way do we all-"

"Shut up, Nitro." Jane grabbed the axes from the wall, throwing them over her shoulders. "Spider-suit, spider-suit..."

"Captain! Captain Kelly!"

"The hell are you doing here?" Jane frowned as _she_ forced her way through the throng of soldiers, using her shoulder when necessary. "This isn't exactly-"

"Captain, I need you." Lily Shen's eyes burned with anger and cold, harsh fear. "Someone on this ship is overwriting my commands on the system. Even if your field forces destroy the EMP spike, I won't be able to reinitialize the engines from the bridge with that opposition."

"So what?" Jane blinked. "You need to kickstart them from Engineering."

"Got it in one."

"Why do you need me?"

"Because whoever's on the ship...is still on the ship." Shen's lips thinned. "After the Tower, you and I both know I'm not soft, but..."

"Damn it." Jane shot a glance at the hangar doors, hissing as they prepared to open. "Shen-"

"Go, Irish." Aileen clapped her shoulder. "I can take your field team." She paused. "Check it: four more, three o' clock."

"Four?" Jane turned...and froze. "Dragunova, you should be in medbay!"

"Fuck you too, Jane." The Reaper marched up gamely, temnotic rifle in hand. Jane's eyebrow twitched.

"I'm an officer, _lieutenant_."

"Fuck you too, _ma'am_." Dragunova glared. "If we lose this ship we lose this war. I'd rather die shot full of holes and shooting back than shot full of holes while lying in a white ward."

"Listen, you batshit crazy Russian-"

"I will protect her, Captain Kelly." Pratal Mox paused to don his helmet. "We will fight together, and your forces will be all the more capable for it."

"Advent-man has a point." Aileen nodded judiciously. "I'm taking them, since it's my op now."

"I didn't say-"

"Go be an engineer, Irish." Aileen turned and waved. "Meysam, you're in too!"

"I'm coming!" The Saudi paused to clap his companion on the shoulder. Then he raced off to the side, seizing a rifle in passing as he ducked into the armor storage. For her part, said companion took a deep breath, then hurried up.

"Can the shit, Bradford." Jane jerked a thumb over her shoulder. "Shard gun, now. You're in and you don't get a say about it: it's all hands and most feet on deck at this point."

"But, Captain-"

"Shut up and do as you're told." Jane drew the axes and tossed them. Mariah let out a strangled gasp as she caught the bundle of Vahlen-made death by the hilts. "Kick a lot of ass for me."

"I..." Her eyes lit up with something like gratitude. "Captain!"

"Go!" Jane waved...and Mariah beamed. She raced for the armor storage in Meysam's wake. Jane sighed. "If her dad has a problem, fuck him."

"I'd hope you wouldn't."

"Go get yourself killed, David." Jane hesitated. "I shouldn't say things like that, especially today."

"I'm tough. Worry about yourself, you damsel in distress you."

"You're a jackass."

"You chose me."

"You're goddamn right." Jane caught his cheek, pulled him down to his level, and gave him a good-luck charm as old as time. They both quivered with the fears they couldn't express, but in that one moment...

"More where that came from if we win?" David wondered, when she let him go.

" _When_ you win, soldier boy." Jane turned back to Shen, impatiently shifting her weight from one foot to the other. "Lead the way, wrench wench."

* * *

Commander Edward Gallant had, in his time, heard and used just about every curse in the English language. He'd heard some impressive-sounding rants in Arabic during his tours, and right now he was pissed off enough that even with an imperfect grasp of the language, he lapsed into trying that shit out.

" _Yai ibn el sharmouta_!" He probably fucked up the pronunciation worse than he'd fucked up leading XCOM in the War, but it was the thought that counted. " _Kess ikhtak!_ "

"Commander!" Zhang seized the mattress pinning Gallant down, and he heaved. It shifted, then flipped, and Gallant's armchair spun away when the corner clipped it. The Commander snarled, grabbing for purchase.

"Cane!" He couldn't get to his feet, so he accepted a sitting position instead. He smacked Zhang on the arm when the old codger tried to pull him upright. "Find my fucking cane, that's how you help me." He breathed in, then out, trying to settle his pounding heartbeat.

 _Thump! Thump!_

"The fuck is that?" Gallant paused, then keyed his com. "John, the fuck is that?"

" _Commander!_ " Bradford's voice was welcome today, if not any other day. No one ever taught Air Force jocks to shut up. " _We've been shot down by an alien EMP pulse. They're calling in troop transports from nearby bases in Richmond and Kill Devil Hills, and they've got battleships in tow._ "

"Fucking lovely." Gallant held out his hand, and Zhang threw his cane from the other end of the room. "I'll make my way down to the bridge. Keep us alive until I get there."

" _Can do, Commander. Only, we have Advent units on the hull, aiming for the ventilation_ -"

 _Crash!_

"Oh, Jesus!" Gallant threw himself backward as a pair of soldiers tumbled down from overhead, struggling to keep their guns as they hit the deck. Zhang slugged one in the face and he went down in a senseless heap - but more came on their heels, all with weapons at the ready.

Most of them bearing on Gallant.

* * *

"Commander? Commander, come in!" John Bradford swore, then abandoned the channel. "Someone get upstairs and check on him!"

"I'll go!" Volk waved two of his men with him, and they hurried for the hallway out even as Firebrand and Irina came in.

"Menace is deploying into the field, sir." The tech paused. "Shen and Kelly are headed for engineering, and the Doctors are secured in the SHADOW Chamber."

"Jiaying? Tariq? Vermuelen?"

"Vermuelen went after Jiaying, and I don't know anything more. Tariq is shipping out with Meance."

"Roger that." Bradford examined the holodisplay. He sucked in a gentle breath as he watched one icon - one icon in particular, one that gave him many mixed feelings - on its journey into the jaws of battle.

"Patch me through to all coms." He leaned forward on the rail. "Everyone."

Silence. It would probably be the last moment of that for a good long time, and Bradford savored it while it lasted.

The tech gave him a thumbs up.

"All units, this is Central. Security status red." He inhaled. "The perimeter has been breached and hostile units are moving in on all sides. I'm not going to lie: we are outgunned, outmanned, outnumbered and worse. The odds are heavy, and defeat here means the end.

"A thousand generations bear their eyes on us today: our ancestors, sternly watching to see if we, the untested children of the new age, can bear the torch of humanity's defense that they did for so long. Equally vigilant are our children and theirs, desperate to know if they will ever have a world of their own to call home - whether they will even have the right to exist.

"We will not yield with gentle grace. We will not surrender meekly. We will fight until the last man, because we are XCOM. We are the world's first - and last - line of defense. If today is the end of the war that has raged for twenty years, then so be it. But I have faith: faith in the judgment of history, and faith in you. Together, if we give our all to the fight, if we embrace the collective sacrifices demanded of us, and if we set our hands to this greatest task ever delivered to any among humanity, we will survive. We will _win_ , and will be remembered until the ending of the world, among the greatest legends of mankind.

" _Vigilo Confido_."

"Vox Tala for Ten!" Betos threw her fist in the air. Bradford managed a smile.

His eyes went back to the curly-haired soldier running out with her fellows, as if she weren't the slightest bit afraid.

Maybe-

"Sir!" The tech froze. "Sir, I'm detecting Chosen signatures!"

"The Chosen?" Bradford's eyes narrowed. "Which one? The Hunter?"

"Sir..." The tech looked up, and there was nothing but terror in his eyes. "All of them, sir."

* * *

 **Author's Note 56: Put That Avenger Defense Music On Loop**

I certainly did. I'll hear it in my sleep, and I'm not even done.

Be honest: this is the moment you always wanted in the game but we never got. I expect mods. And you should expect death and kickassery.

The title gag between this chapter and the last one is one that's been in my head for years. In one of my old, unpublished-for-good-reasons MS's, I used it prior to the first of the big battle scenes. Magic-powered railgun muskets vs legions of vampires! It was sweet. I have good ideas sometimes even if my execution is usually shit. Maybe I'll rewrite that series - for about the 20th time - before I die, but I doubt it.

Until next time, _Vigilo Confido_.


	57. Horatius at the Bridge

_Please remember to favorite and follow!_

* * *

 _"_ _¡No pasarán!"_

 _~Dolores Ibárruri Gómez_

* * *

 **Chapter Fifty-seven: Horatius at the Bridge**

The harmonic chamber was peaceful, as always. It smelled of lilacs and it hummed with low energy that reinforced its divine solace.

And it didn't bring Janet Ross any peace at all.

"The _Avenger_ is under siege." She paced, unable to help herself even as the others meditated and studied chessboards. "Commander Gallant and his soldiers are in danger."

"They are indeed. Events move apace." Anne Lawrence fiddled with the band in her hair. "What of it? We live in interesting times."

"Advent stands poised to triumph over the world of men."

"We have left that world behind."

"Have we?" Janet narrowed her eyes. "Are we truly more, simply for seeing more?"

"So saith the Messiah."

"Perhaps, then, the Messiah is-"

"Yes, Janet?"

"Geist!" Janet spun on her heel, inclining her head as respectfully as she could. "I was discussing the battle for the _Avenger_ with Anne."

"So I heard." He eyed her critically for a moment: doing that thing he did where he seemed to stare into her soul and her being. Janet bore up as best she could under his gaze. "What is your care? Gallant has many times denied us."

"Geist, sir..." She cleared her throat. "This planet is ours too."

"Hm. It was ours before the aliens came, and it will be ours when they are gone." Geist's gaze got a good bit sharper. "Let them fight with XCOM. Whomever triumphs will be weakened for it, and neither are our friends."

"Geist..."

"Let them fight, Janet. That is all I have to say." Geist ascended to his chair, and he took his seat without a word more. Anne smiled and nodded, subservient as a Templar should be.

Janet could only resume her pacing, watching the psionic window that showed the course of events a world away.

* * *

 _Blam!_

The good: Aileen got the first shot of the battle, right out at a soldier who showed himself too quickly between the thin trees that lay between _Avenger_ and the EMP spike.

The bad: she missed.

"Fuck!" Aileen dove behind a fallen log, even as the soldier let loose from the hip on full auto. She covered her head one-handed, using the other to try and work the reload on the Bolt Caster.

"Watch it!" David unloaded a second later, and hot mag-rounds ripped through the woods, spraying splinters and shrapnel. Aileen finished her reload, but she fished on her belt instead in the moment of calm.

"Heads down, jackasses!" And she pulled the pin with her teeth and flung the green-glowing charge end-over-end. Charlotte and Mariah dove for cover, the latter firing from the hip while she did it and clipping a charging muton in the face. The beast sat down hard, clutching at the yellow-bloody mess that had once been the top of its skull-

Then Aileen's grenade detonated, and a noxious cloud of green gas shot out on all sides, driving knives into the lungs of anything unlucky enough to be caught inside.

" _Donut!_ " screamed about a dozen Advent voices at once, all of them breaking with desperation, agony, and terror. " _Great tits ahoy!_ "

"You fucking know it!" And Aileen shot the speaker, ripping him in half with a chest shot. "Stare in awe!"

" _Warning: hostiles approaching._ " Junior stomped in front of her, cannon blazing. " _Multiple airborne contacts_."

"Airborne?" Aileen slammed another shot into place. "Nessie, Scanning Protocol-"

" _Bugs!_ " Charlotte shrieked a moment later, unloading from the hip on full auto. A swarm of black...things no bigger than Aileen's thumbnail roared through the trees, tearing right through the poison swarm without a care in the world. Junior and David fired too, and a sniper shot - from Cameron or Meysam, Aileen really couldn't tell - arced into the maelstrom, but only a few of the little things went down.

"Watch your head!" David fired another long burst as a swarm came together, coalescing into a vaguely humanoid shape. "Aileen!"

"Fucking-" Aileen slammed the butt of the Caster into the...spectre's face, and it reeled. Well, it could feel pain: she took a step back, hitting the trigger almost before she was lined up.

"Nice shot!" Evidently it was Meysam providing fire support. He put another round into the cloud of bugthings as they collapsed into a puddle around Aileen's feet, still twitching and hissing as they tried to reconstitute with a hole that big blown in their numbers.

Something exploded over to the right. Aileen thought she heard Liang's voice, and Mox's and Dragunova's, from that side. Gunfire echoed through the trees, enough for dozens of Advent soldiers - and even as she listened, she heard the roar of transport engines.

"We've got to push forward." She scrambled to the nearest rock, working the reload like she did every other second. "Come on! The longer we wait here, the harder it's gonna be to shift them-"

There was another spectre. Aileen noticed it when she rounded the rock and ran headfirst into its outstretched hand.

"Jesus-" Aileen's breath caught as it blew apart, and its component parts swarmed onto her, digging needles into her flesh.

When she screamed, a good number of them went down her throat too.

* * *

"Dear Lord." Tygan took off his glasses, staring at the feed from David's helmet as the spectre...

" _Man down!_ " Meysam fired wildly, scoring a glancing hit on the remnants of the spectre's main body. " _The LT's down_ -"

"I'm still reading her vitals. They're erratic, but she's alive." Kipler bit his lip, then redoubled his work on his terminal. "For now."

"Avenger _, what the fuck is that?_ "

"It appears...it appears at first to be some sort of insect hive." Tygan checked his own sensor feeds. "Upon closer examination, I must classify it as a tightly coordinated swarm of nanobots, connected by a central processing unit. If you can disable that unit, the swarm will come apart and lose power."

" _And_ that?" David pointed to Aileen, and the...the...

"My word." Tygan's eyebrows went up. "It's made some sort of...shadow copy of her. The nanobots have analyzed her build and equipment and made duplicates!"

"What do we do?" Kipler demanded. Tygan bent over his terminal.

"Menace, the nanobots will remain guided by the same central functionality no matter how widely they spread. If the mother unit can be disabled, the clone will lose cohesion just the same."

"They're getting slaughtered." Kipler watched the feed with horror in his eyes. "This is a massacre."

"They are the best warriors humanity has to offer." Tygan inhaled slowly. "They will prevail. Of that, I am certain. All we can do is offer what assistance we can."

"Like what?"

Tygan sighed. "At this moment, our job is to figure that out."

* * *

"God, it's dark down here."

"Shut up, Kelly." That was not the best way for Shen to endear herself to Jane at the best of times. Now...

Their boots came down on the latticework plating of Engineering, lit up in faint spots by patches of scarlet capacitor light from overhead. Shadows fell long from all sides, and every other step Jane thought she'd step on or kick something by accident. She swore when she banged her shin into a table.

"Quiet," Shen snapped. She plucked up a flashlight from her workbench. "We might not be alone in here. This is the computing and tech center of the ship - and the connection to the power core."

"I thought Power was connected to the Research Division."

"The core is _in_ the Labs, and Doctor Tygan is the one who can boot it up, either there or, now, from the SHADOW Chamber. But this is where the relays and connectors are." Shen shot Jane's shard gun a harsh glance. "Be very careful with your fire in here. You blow the wrong wires across each other and the ship will go up like Nagasaki."

"But the power's out."

"Yeah, but when it comes back _on_ -"

The world ended with a dramatic concussion. Jane flew into Shen's worktable, face coming down hard in a box of wrenches. Her arc blade clattered off into a corner. The back of her head blossomed with agony, and when she felt at the base of her ponytail, her hand came away warm and sticky, even if she couldn't see for shit in this lighting.

"You son of a bitch!" Shen's flashlight flew off to the side a moment later, and Jane heard her scream. She swore.

"Get off!" Jane threw herself back up, and she seized the dark form wrestling with Shen around the throat. She heaved him - and it was definitely a him, with a build like that - around, and she hauled tight, squeezing his throat. "Shen!"

"Bastard!" With blood running from the side of her head, Shen still drove two vicious crosses into the man's face. "I should have guessed-"

He kicked her knee, hard enough she went down. A moment later, his elbow cracked the side of Jane's head, and she stumbled backward, world spinning. He lunged for her, hands going around her throat as he pinned her to the wall.

"...you!" Jane snarled, enough like an animal she surprised even herself. "You're the fucking spy, Vermuelen!"

He didn't respond. He just pushed harder, and Jane saw stars as her lungs nearly exploded. She couldn't breathe...Shen was still down, scrambling for purchase...

Jane drove her fingers up into Vermuelen's eyes.

"Fuck!" He howled, staggering back into the shadows. Jane sucked in air - and then lunged, not ready but not inclined to let him recover either. Despite his distraction, he blocked her first kick, then knocked her jab away and shot a vicious hook in that threw her six paces left. Jane spat blood, then seized the nearest weapon she could find. It turned out to be a chair, and Jane cracked it into Vermuelen as hard as she could.

"Get him, Jane!" Shen came up then, and she caught the traitor's arm as he lunged for his belt. Shen wove out of the way as he punched for her, and Jane hit him again with the chair.

"Sit down!" Vermuelen threw Shen almost head-over-heels, and she hit the far wall with a deafening bang. When Jane came in for her third swipe, he skittered back, then lunged and caught her arm. He wrenched, and her chair flew and she tumbled on her face. Jane got her hands under her, scrambling up-

The muzzle of a gun pressed itself to the top of her ballcap.

* * *

" _Mor balaten!_ " The soldier shoved his gun into Gallant's face, sneering under his helmet. " _Mor bala_ -"

"Run, Commander!" Zhang hit the fellow like a train, flinging him into the far wall hard enough his helmet cracked. Gallant skittered away on his back, swearing as his mangled leg lit up and protested every twitch and move.

" _Donut!_ " There were more soldiers, and their guns turned to Zhang now. Gallant jabbed with his cane, and he got one right in the crotch. The jackass collapsed with a high-pitched whine, and Zhang kicked him while he was down.

"Chilong!" Gallant twisted the head of his cane, and he ripped it in two. From the tool, he drew two feet of shimmering silver steel under a rounded hilt. Gallant threw, and Zhang caught the blade left-handed, driving it into the ribcage of the nearest stun lancer before she had the chance to strike.

Gallant's elbow flew, and he drove it back into the underslung drawer on his nightstand. It popped from the impact, then dropped open. Gallant seized its contents, then hauled himself up, using the wall for support.

"Fuck off!" He smashed the Enhanced Shadowkeeper's butt into a trooper's cheek hard enough the alien-lover toppled in a heap, then leveled the gun two-handed, bracing his hip on the nightstand. Pain was his constant companion, but with the reflexes of Basic and the savagery of a man cornered, Gallant picked out his target in a flash.

 _Blam!_ The Shadowkeeper kicked like a mule, and its spray of grape shot eviscerated a priest and a lancer in one blast. A shieldbearer ducked behind Gallant's bed, powering up her suit, only for Zhang to cut her throat before she had a chance. Gallant worked the hammer, then fired again, blowing a soldier into Alien Hell.

"Watch your head!" He fired twice more, covering Zhang whenever guns pointed in the Heavy's direction. In return, Zhang stood like a wall, carving through anyone who got too close. For a minute, they held, painting Gallant's sheets yellow and flinging soldier parts around like cheap confetti.

" _Eat pizza_ -"

"You're a prick!" Gallant ducked the stun lancer's wild slash, then trapped his wrist with one hand. His other stuck the Shadowkeeper under the bastard's chin, and he took great satisfaction in watching his head literally explode. "You're all pricks! _Get off my ship!_ "

Zhang's fist pulverized one face, and he left the reeling shieldbearer for Gallant to shoot. His sword flashed, cutting open a leg and then a shoulder, then driving through the next soldier ear-to-ear. Zhang recovered, then retreated as a lancer came for him, baton whirling. He parried twice, ducked three more times - and then paused when Gallant shot the Adventer the instant he had the angle.

"They're not getting through here. They just aren't." Gallant's brow furrowed as he contemplated the field of bodies - and then shot the next idiot who thought his odds were better. "So why on earth are they still-"

 _Wham!_ The next figure to come through the shaft wasn't a soldier: this one wore a purple jumpsuit, plastered to a visibly feminine form. She had a mask over her face: one with a visible heads up display inside, one that pulsed with lines of energy like the ones radiating from her body. She had a gun slung over her shoulder, and also an amp like Julie's but sleeker, more angular, more...alien.

And she had bright red hair.

"Oh..." Gallant stumbled for the door, eyes widening. "Oh, shit."

"Commander." Angelis rose to her full height, eyes glowing with power. "It's good to see you again."

" _Run!_ " Gallant fired, and the bullets fairly bounced off Angelis' shoulders. Zhang caught him around the waist, hoisting Gallant up like a kitten and tearing down the hall for the stairs.

"It's no use running." Angelis appeared in the doorway, amp in one hand. Power seared up through her eyes. "Come back, Command-"

"Fire!"

Bullets cracked around Gallant and Zhang - coming from _ahead_ , not behind. Angelis let out a cry as they hit her visor and her bodysuit, forcing her to cover her face and pull back behind the doorway.

"Commander-"

"Thanks, Volk, you bastard!" Gallant fired a few Shadowkeeper rounds too, just for good measure. "We've got to lock down the bridge, _now!_ " He swallowed as purple flashed from the direction of his quarters. "I think you pissed her off."

* * *

 _Blam! Blam!_

"Tango down." Mariah worked the pump, then ducked as a bolt of Hell-sent death smote the tree trunk beside her. "Incoming."

Shadow Aileen hit her reload, and Mariah lunged, empty shard gun forgotten. She caught the Shadow Bolt Caster, ripping it from the spectre-construct's grip. Mariah used the gun to bash the lieutenant's evil twin to the ground, then seized her own and slapped a new clip in.

"Get out of there!" Meysam cried, as the evil dark bots shot up into the air again. They swarmed, and his snap pistol fire went wide. " _Mariah!_ "

"Incoming on the right!" Liang and David's machineguns let loose, and Advent screams filled the air. Mariah didn't flinch, not even when a wide MEC missile hit the ground twelve yards away. Shrapnel cut her cheek, and still she didn't twitch.

" _Soldier, what the hell are you doing_ -"

Mariah muted Central's voice - and the spectre lunged.

It hit the ground on all fours, scrabbling as Mariah sidestepped at the last second. It lunged for her, only to press its own chest into her shard gun-

 _Blam! Blam! Blam!_ Mariah considered, then hit the trigger again. _Blam!_

"Good work, Corporal!" Dragunova raced by, bashing a head in with her rifle butt. The remnants of the spectre blew away on the wind, each little bot churning out the last of its life. Shadow Aileen twitched, hissing and fizzing, and Mariah only had to nudge with her toe and the entire construct collapsed into tiny fragments.

"If we had a dozen wildcats like you..." David whooped a moment later, when Aileen coughed and spat black. "Lieutenant!"

"Shut up. I have a hangover." Aileen pushed herself to one knee, and Mariah hurried to her side, firing into the trees when she saw motion. She clipped a viper, two sectoids, a soldier...

"There's a ton of them in there!" Meysam sighted, then fired. He paused to take aim with his wrist, and a moment later the Serpent Suit repositioned him into a higher tree. He perched between the branches for a moment. "We can't push against a fortified position like-"

"Follow me!" Mariah took point, gun upraised. Something blew up off to the side, and someone human screamed in agony, but she didn't waver now, not any more than she had before.

"Are you _mental_ , kid?" But Aileen fell in anyway. "Junior! Charlotte! David! Get your asses on the line now!"

"Covering!" Charlotte opened up, and golden mag-tracers lit the path like angry, death-spewing takes on the tale of Hansel and Gretel.

"Grenade!" Aileen threw, and Mariah diverted her path. Poison gas wafted up around the nearest Advent firebase, and as it dissolved into screaming and wailing, Mariah dove between two tight trunks and found herself in the middle of the next one, surrounded on three sides.

 _Blam!_ That was the officer, always the first target. Mariah's second shot kicked her shoulder just as hard, going overtop of the bruise that had to already be there - but the impact was far more devastating to her poor victim, a priest who never got the chance to put herself in sustenance.

" _Mor balaten!_ " A stun lancer's baton knocked her gun down, and Mariah caught his wrist on the backswing, driving his weapon into the tree hard enough it stuck. She punched the soldier, cracking his visor, and before he could scramble back up, she had the Ionic Axe in hand. It cut his head from his shoulders in one swing.

"Watch it, dumbass!" Aileen fired, and a muton roared, clutching the hole blasted through where its black heart ought to be.

" _All call signs, this is Central_."

 _Blam! Blam!_ Mariah's gun ran dry, so she reclaimed the axe from the still-twitching corpse it was embedded in, hitting a soldier with the hilt and then kicking him in the crotch. She axed his falling body a moment later.

" _Your lead elements are five hundred yards from the spike. That signal is only getting stronger, and the aliens are bringing in more elements to stop us from reaching it. Don't let this turn into Stalingrad_."

Mariah side-kicked a shieldbearer into a heavy weapons emplacement, and he let out a strangled squawk when he found the live hand grenade she'd stuck into his pocket. The one detonated - and then the other, obliterating a hundred square yards of forest and immolating every alien caught inside all at once.

" _You!_ "

Mariah yelped as a hand caught her from thin air, one that hoisted her well up off the ground.

" _I might have underestimated you, Daughter of Bradford_." A purple face appeared from the air, set with surprised and hateful eyes. " _Like these trees, you have grown strong. And also like many of these trees...it is time for you to be felled_."

* * *

Gunshots rang through _Avenger_ 's companionways. The radio was full of panicked traffic from the field team and the bridge crew alike. Shit was strewn everywhere from the crash.

"Perfect. My kind of day." She hurried up the ramp, checking her helmet and her air lines. She double-checked her comms gear, the sealant in her pressure suit, and her sidearm. Ballistic, unfortunately, but she'd had the damn thing for years and it had never let her down.

"Come on, baby." She took a seat at her instrument panel, and she ran through her preflight check in more of a hurry than usual. "Everything's green...topped off on fuel, that's nice. That's very nice. Let's make meaning of our name, huh, baby?"

" _What the hell are you doing?_ " came the cry over the radio as she gunned the engines. She let out a dry laugh.

" _Avenger_ , this is Firebrand requesting permission for takeoff."

"Firebrand-"

"Kiss mine, Central." She hit the throttle again, and the Skyranger lifted up off the hangar deck. A moment later, she worked the rudder pedals to turn, and then she was lined up for departure.

"Kiss mine," she repeated, trying to sound more confident than she felt. "Let's kick some ass."

* * *

"Is that..." Tygan watched the security feed, clutching the back of his chair with steadily whitening fingers. "Who is that, chasing the Commander?"

"I don't know." Kipler kept his head down, typing steadily. Tygan shot him a glance.

"What are you doing?"

"Trying to come up with something I can do to shift the odds. I-"

 _Bang!_

"Oh, no." Tygan pulled up another camera feed. "That alien craft has landed a transit pod on the roof. There's some kind of general emerging with an honor guard in tow. They're coming in."

"No. No!" Kipler typed faster. "Maybe I can seal the doors and keep them from getting in..."

"Work on that." Tygan opened another directory. "There was a project we had going...the WRAITH Suit...maybe if we can accelerate our prototype-"

"You're really looking into science files at a time like this?"

"I don't know what else I can..." Tygan trailed off. "It's gone."

"What is?" Kipler blinked. Tygan hurriedly hunted through directories.

"The WRAITH file. It's...it's gone! It's..." He bit his tongue. "The Enhanced Bolt Caster file. The Ionic Axe. They're gone too."

"How is that possible?"

"I don't..." Tygan paused as he went back to the root menu. "The folder on Enhanced Munitions just vanished."

"What?" Kipler blinked. "The...the aliens must be hacking into the system and deleting our developments-"

"They can't. The _Avenger_ is a hack-shielded closed network. The only units permitted access are inside the ship: stationary emplacements. And they're all offline."

"You must have missed one."

"I didn't." Tygan double-checked to be sure he hadn't. "They would have to be using an interior machine hardwired into the network, and the only ones that are online are mine and-"

Dead silence. Tygan's breath fled as he even contemplated the end of the sentence.

"Richard?"

Slowly, he turned. Slowly, he met Kipler's eyes, already shaking where he stood.

"Mine...and yours, Doctor Kipler."

* * *

Mariah kicked, but the Assassin didn't release her. She made an annoyed noise in the back of her throat, but she didn't drop or fling Mariah, content to choke the life out of her. Or, maybe not: one-handed she drew her sword, lining up her stab.

" _You have heart_." The Chosen pressed the tip of the blade to Mariah's throat, even as she squirmed, fighting the grip that turned her world fuzzy and indistinct. " _Know that you die with honor, as a warrior_ -"

" _Please remain still_."

" _Not again-_ " Then the pressure was gone, because Junior tackled the Assassin like a four-ton linebacker, and he drove the purple skank into the dirt with all his strength. She thrashed.

"Oh, God!" But Mariah scrambled to her feet, reclaiming her weapons in a flash. She gunned down two more Adventers, teeth set.

" _Menace, this is Central. I need a sitrep_."

"They've got a lot of shit in these woods!" Julie Richardson bounded in from the left, hands glowing and blood already coating her armor. "They're moving in with light infantry on the east side and heavy muton units down the center."

" _Mechanized on the right flank. Counting MECs and some old-fashioned cyberdisks, supplemented by codices_."

"That's fine and all, Cameron." Mariah inhaled. "But we're handling it." _Blam!_ "Every bit of it!"

" _Good to hear, Menace. You're three hundred yards from the spike_."

"Copy, Central-"

" _And...Mariah..._ "

"Oh, _balls!_ " Liang and Dragunova burst from the trees, nearly bent double. "Run for your lives!"

"Run?" Meysam leveled his rifle. "What the hell is-"

"An imperfect decision was made!" Mox appeared on the girls' heels, and Cameron with him. The Skirmisher caught Dragunova the instant she started flagging, and his grapple went off. "I am not pleased with the results!"

"Wait!" Aileen took aim at the Assassin. "Let me at least-"

 _Blam!_

"Lieutenant!" Mariah dove, catching Aileen as she stumbled and dropped to one knee, clutching the bloody wound blasted in her chest. Red and black smoke peeled off into the air along the bullet's flight path.

" _Too easy. Try taking cover next time: it helps_."

"The Hunter's got a bead on our position!" Mariah ripped the front plate off Aileen's armor. She winced when she saw the wound. "Charlotte! Get your ass over here!"

"Coming!" The blonde started over, staying lower now that she knew what to fear. Mariah put pressure on the wound, heedless of Aileen's blood staining her hands.

"You're going to be okay. You're gonna be fine-"

 _Bang-hiss!_

"Goddamn it!" Mariah covered her eyes, howling as the Assassin's device scoured her gaze. The world went white...and her ears rang...and...and...

"She's out!" That was David, very faintly. "The Assassin has slipped into the woods-"

"Leave her! Push it forward while we have the-"

A tree flew as if in challenge, crashing down to Mariah's left. The world shook, and from the forest...

"...the chance." Mariah gulped as the Berserker Queen burst forth, letting out a titanic roar of hate and challenge. Around her knees...

"No. Oh, fuck, no." Charlotte ground to a halt. Mariah's throat went dry.

"...an imperfect decision..." Mariah sucked in breath as about twenty chryssalids swarmed into the clearing, letting out their chirping, hateful, searing war calls as they thundered along on their needle-point legs. " _What the fuck, guys?_ "

* * *

Lily Shen grabbed for a weapon, and her hands found a screwdriver. It wouldn't be enough to stop Vermuelen, not in time to save Jane's life, but...

"ROV-R!" Lily lunged, and Vermuelen's head snapped up. His finger tightened on the trigger of his mag-pistol-

 _Zap!_ ROV-R shot down from the ceiling where he'd been waiting, and electricity coursed over Vermuelen's arm. The South African cried out, and that was the chance Jane needed to headbutt him in the gut.

"Gotcha!" Lily stabbed with the screwdriver, and she drove it hard into his shoulder. Vermuelen twisted, shoving the pistol up between her eyes-

"Fuck you!" Jane clapped his wrist hard, and the gun spun off into the darkness, sliding under a far table. She got a punch to the face for her trouble, and the brave Ranger crashed into the far wall. She was brave, yeah, but not indestructible - and she hadn't had a chance to rest since Canada. Lily could see her strength failing, flowing out of her in tune with the blood running through her hair.

"You won't get this ship off the ground!" Vermuelen punched Lily, and she crashed back onto her table. She spat, then jumped back up, weaving under his determined assault to get a shot into his cheek. He stumbled - stumbled right into Jane's hook kick.

It wasn't enough. Vermuelen caught her leg before she could recover, pitching the Irishwoman onto her face. Lily caught him around the throat, but all she earned was a Judo throw right onto her head. She rolled away, slamming into Julian's machine hard enough she suspected she'd knocked his hard drives out of place.

"Fucking! Traitor!" Jane was up, and she and Vermuelen boxed, fists flying. "I should have let Aileen knife you!"

"You talk too much," Vermuelen snarled, as he punched Jane again. He grabbed her by the hair, then drove her face down on Lily's worktable. Jane thrashed.

Lily kicked out the back of Vermuelen's knee.

"Get him!" She scrambled to her feet as Vermuelen went down. Jane needed no further urging, and she threw herself on him in a storm of blows. Weak as she was, she could only daze her opponent, but that was all Lily needed anyway. It bought her a moment.

And when Vermuelen blocked Jane's last punch and countershot into her gut, his attention was distracted from the enormous wrench Lily swung two-handed.

"Bastard!" Jane kicked the corpse, even as Lily threw the gore-stained wrench off into darkness. The Irishwoman clutched her ribs. "If I was in tip-top shape, I'd have mopped the floor with him, no sweat."

"I know, Jane. I know." Lily glanced around. "Where's his gun? If more Advent come in here, we might need-"

 _Bang!_

"Jane!" Lily lunged as she went down, clutching the wound in her chest. Lily caught her shoulder, feeling for the hole. There was a lot of blood...a _lot_...

"ROV-R! Medical..." Lily flinched as the GREMLIN released nanobots. They sealed the wound and poured into it, and Jane let out a hissing sigh as the painkillers sunk into her system.

"Shen..."

"Lie still. Don't move-"

"Shen!" Jane thrust her shard gun up, and Lily's breath caught. She hesitated.

Then she took it, and she rose, bringing the gun around-

"Don't even!" The command came out sharply. Lily stared down the barrel of a pistol from across Engineering, and the voice - and the darkened shape under the emergency lights - robbed her of her faculties. "Throw that away now, or I shoot her again."

"I..." Lily couldn't speak, not for a long moment. "... _Jiaying_?"

* * *

 **Author's Note 57: So, We're Finally Here**

This was one of the first scenes I thought of for Season Two. Everything to do with what's happened and will happen here in Engineering, I had it in mind close to the beginning of Season One. Yes, that means I have a lot of the overarcing scene concepts for S3 figured out already. I have some for 4 too, but that's different since, unless we get a lot of length creep in S3, Season 4 will be 50% finale sequence and that draws on game plot a lot.

Yes, the appearance of an Avatar before you've even hit the Forge or the Gate is kind of unlikely. And XCOM has *not* completed the Encrypted Codex Data research, nor - clearly - skulljacked a codex, and I'm not bypassing those plot points. However, I thought it would make a kickass season finale boss fight, so bite me. Canon is my plaything, and I will happily violate it the instant doing so gives me something more exciting than I would otherwise have.

Three more chapters. Are you ready for what comes next?

Until next time, _Vigilo Confido_.


	58. For Whom The Bell Tolls

_Please remember to favorite and follow!_

* * *

 _"_ _The eyes of all our countrymen are now upon us, and we shall have their blessings and praises, if happily we are the instruments of saving them from the tyranny meditated against them. Let us therefore animate and encourage each other, and show the whole world that a freeman contending for liberty on his own ground is superior to any slavish mercenary on earth."_

 _~George Washington_

* * *

 **Chapter Fifty-eight: For Whom The Bell Tolls**

"Engage the swarm!" Mox held down the trigger, and his bullpup roared, spitting magnetic projectiles out in a washing wave of death. They deflected off chryssalid plating, but rounds went into cracks and eyes, blowing off fingers and mandibles, and the bug-creatures reared, shrieking their blood-curdling war cries. Their knifelike legs jabbed at the air, fast and sharp enough it seemed that they cut paths through it, and saliva fell from their fast-working jaws. Whenever it hit the dirt, it hissed menacingly.

" _Topped one_ ," Cameron announced, as his sniper rifle barked and one of the chryssalids went down. Meysam fired too, and then Nui and Kang opened up from the foliage. The bugs took the hail of fire with aplomb, advancing without a care-

"Eat this!" David shot off a grenade, and one of the chryssalids caught it between its teeth. A moment later-

"More, you hear me?" Aileen fired right into the blossoming explosion, and her shot unerringly flew between chryssalid parts and into the chest of the Berserker Queen. "Hit them harder!"

 _Crack! Crack!_ Dragunova appeared from the shadows, firing a few quick shots that mowed down the most wounded of the chryssalids. By the time they turned, she'd ducked back around to Mox's side, and he'd slammed a new magazine into place.

"You should not stress your injuries."

"You should go to hell, alien." She sighted and took another shot: one that went right into a chryssalid eye. Yellow blood and orange brains sprayed over its companions, one of whom fell on the corpse and started devouring it.

 _Blam! Blam!_ Mariah's shard gun blew gaping holes in the crowd - and then she ducked as one of the beasts sliced for her throat. Her axe came out in a flash, and she nearly cut the chryssalid in two. Meysam shot another one trying to sneak up behind her.

"Push forward!" Mariah found a stun lancer in the chaos, and Mox winced when she efficiently disemboweled him, then turned his gun on his own companions as his death throes included squeezing the trigger. "We're almost there!"

"She's lost her mind." Dragunova took another shot. "She's going to get herself killed."

"Not if we move with her." Mox fired his grapple, and it latched right onto the most convenient target. "Do not follow me."

"What are you doing-"

Then there was no more time for words: Mox's grapple yanked hard, and he flew from his perch, ripjack coming out.

He landed on the Berserker Queen's shoulder, and he dug the blades in deep for purchase. She roared and flailed, and Mox held on for dear life.

" _You're out of your goddam mind!_ " Julie cried. Purple flashed in the trees. " _Mox, hang on, I'm coming_ -"

"The situation is manageable." And Mox ripped hard, slashing a nice hole in the beast's flesh. He shoved the muzzle of his bullpup into the gap, then-

 _Blam-blam-blam!_ Mox fired a burst on reflex, and when the Queen crashed on all fours, he abandoned moderation and unloaded at full auto. His shots ripped through her insides, wrecking anything they touched, and the monster let out a wounded wail that shook the trees.

"I don't think so!" Mox fired his grapple again, and this time he caught a soldier taking aim at Fatima from the side, while the EXO-suited Assault held down the right flank virtually by herself. The soldier wailed as Mox hauled him in, and the Queen caught him from the air seemingly on reflex. She crunched him in her fist, throwing the mangled corpse to the ground when she was done.

The corpse that still had Mox's line attached.

"Oh-" He flew, arm nearly yanked out of its socket, and landed hard on his back in the loam. The world spun dizzyingly.

Mox rolled sideways as a fist came down where he'd been a moment before. He kept rolling as the Queen lashed out for him again, then again, hammering madly at the ground and roaring her hate. One hit...

"Take this!" Mox ripped out his frag grenade, and he threw it right into the Queen's face. He rolled away, burying his head in the dirt-

 _Boom!_ _Roar!_

" _It's falling back!_ " Sylvie paused, and Mox distinctly heard her shout something in French and a chorus of Advent voices wail piteously. " _Mox, get out of there before-_ "

Mox yelped as something seized him by the scruff of his neck. He thrashed in the air, grabbing for his gun and realizing it was empty-

" _I never gave my sister any grace for allowing your kind to escape and flourish, even before I encountered you_." The Warlock's voice broke off for a harsh laugh. " _I have even less reason to now_."

* * *

Lily quivered, Jane's shard gun held in shaking hands. "No. No, Jiaying-"

"The weapon, cousin." Her brown eyes boiled hard in the low light. "Throw it away."

"Jiaying-"

The muzzle of her pistol twitched toward Jane's prostrate form, and slowly Lily lowered the gun. When Jiaying didn't relent, she had to throw it off to the side, where it vanished into the shadows.

"What are you doing?" Lily swallowed. "Jiaying...you're mind controlled. You have to be."

"That would make life simple, wouldn't it?" Her jaw worked. "I didn't want it to come to this. If you believe nothing else of me, believe that."

"It was you. You overwrote my commands when _Avenger_ was crashing." Lily raised her hands when the gun turned back to her. "You gave Advent the information on Liang and Rogers' covert operation."

"I did."

"You and Vermeulen have been planning this, haven't you? You've been together so much...I thought you two were...but you've been in cahoots."

"He was dumb muscle. He thought I was going to ground the ship and Advent would reward us both when they'd taken it."

Lily's stomach churned. "No. No, Jiaying..."

Her eyes remained cold. "Yes, Lily."

"If you blow the power core, you'll go up too-"

"And?"

"This isn't you!" Lily shook her head. "What's your loyalty to Advent? After everything they did to my father - what about the raid that killed your-"

" _Advent didn't kill him!_ " Jiaying's face contorted, so fast and so harsh that Lily took a step back. "I never said Advent launched the raid, Lily! _He worked on the Avatar Project!_ "

Those words rang around the Engineering spaces, bouncing off the dormant terminals and echoing from the high ceiling. Lily inhaled softly.

"The black site. Switzerland." She only needed the curl of Jiaying's lip to confirm her guess. "So this is revenge. You don't care what your fiancé did - just that he was yours and he's gone now."

"He was kind. He was good to me. He was good to..." Jiaying broke off, and Lily saw a glint in her eye. "I never wanted any of this, do you understand? Neither did he. All we wanted was a quiet life: a house, a family...nothing to do with this world of monsters and mayhem."

"Then we took him from you, and you're consumed by your hate now."

"Hate?" Jiaying barked a harsh laugh. "Lily, even when I lost him...I just wanted to forget. I wanted to stay with my parents. I wanted to stay with my _son_."

Lily's breath came in slowly. "Jiaying...where _are_ they?"

Her eyes deadened, just a little. "I think you understand now."

"We can help you. We can find them. You can act like you're still Advent's perfect mole, while we track them down-"

"You'll never find them. And at least this way, my son gets to grow up in a world free from disease, knowing his father was avenged."

"Without you with him-"

"You think that doesn't haunt me?" Jiaying quivered, but her eyes never wavered. "You think I don't...you think..."

She exhaled. Lily watched her composure return...and the fury in her eyes redouble.

"None of that matters." Jiaying's lip curled again, and more derisively this time. "If your strike team, by some miracle, succeeds in restoring power, Lily - it'll be the end of the Resistance as surely as if they'd failed."

* * *

"Movement!" Cameron brought his rifle up and fired to prove it. The slug raced out across the forest, zipping between two trees, passing under the Berserker Queen's upraised arm and over Liang's head as she dove out of the way of falling fists, and then rocketing past Mox and the Warlock wrestling while Dragunova provided supporting fire whenever she had the shot. The mag-slug kept on going, and it slammed right into-

" _That wasn't half bad!_ " A moment later, the world imploded as a red shot on a black, smoking trail zoomed right back along Cameron's bullet's flight path. He screamed and dove away from his tree, and the round bisected it neatly. " _Betcha can't do it again!_ "

"Command, this is Menace one-five, we are trying to push forward but are up against a Ruler and at least two Chosen!" Cameron scrambled up as Meysam fired on the Hunter next. Cameron had to draw his pistol and double tap a purifier trying to get around the flank, and the resulting blast seared his eyes. He dropped behind a rock, rubbing at the soot over his face. "We need some support, now!"

" _Menace, I have nothing left to send you. Push harder!_ " Bradford trailed off a moment later. " _What the hell is that?_ "

"Central?"

He didn't respond. Cameron didn't like that.

He also didn't like the grenade that landed next to him.

"Oh, shit!" He grabbed it without thinking and threw it back in the general direction of the enemy-occupied trees. It made it all of two feet distant before-

 _Bang!_

"My eyes!" Cameron dropped again, clutching them as the world turned to a hazy mire of gray. "I can't see!"

"Hang in there, Moose!" Liang appeared over him, and he heard her gun roaring even if all he saw was her leg. "We're almost to the transmitter!"

"Good!" Cameron got to his hands and knees, feeling for his weapons. Charlotte went running by as he did, screaming in French about someone named Evangeline. Her gun roared, and the Berserker Queen howled.

"It's backing up! It's running into the trees!"

"Leave it, Dragunova!" David fired another grenade, and the treeline exploded. Cameron grabbed his rifle, thankful as his vision started to swim back into focus. "Mariah's already pushing in with Tariq and Tashiro - we've got to get up there and give her support before-"

He went down with a cry as sparks flew. Something slashed open his back, and David rolled away, howling curses his accent nearly swallowed. Cameron lunged to his feet, but the form materializing from the air hit Liang before he could even manage to warn her, flinging the Grenadier and her ninja wrappings to the base of the tree Cameron had occupied.

"Shit!" He threw his gun up defensively as silver flashed, and he caught the Assassin's blade on the barrel. His gun creaked dangerously, and when the Assassin recovered and slashed again - and when Cameron was foolish enough to parry again - the blade cut right through.

Cameron sucked in breath when the Chosen's sword came back around - and then shot right for his throat.

* * *

"Go! Go!" Edward Gallant broke free from Zhang's grip as they burst back through the bridge doors. "John!"

"What the hell is that?" Bradford turned from the hologlobe. "Commander?"

"We've got incoming!" Volk dove behind a computer console, bringing his rifle up. His Reapers spread out with him. "For the love of God, man-"

"Get down!" Gallant tackled Bradford as _she_ appeared down the hallway, her gun up and a host of soldiers on her heels. Gallant heard a whine as the weapon powered up, and then-

Purple laser blasts shredded the bridge, punching into computer monitors and light fixtures. Glass rained from shattering bulbs, and sparks flew as the energy blasts blew apart the holodisplay's projectors. Red mag-projectiles joined the fireworks display as the Adventers fired too, moving in squads down the hallway and for the open bridge doors.

"Let them have it!" Volk fired back first, and then his Reapers. Gallant pushed himself up off of Bradford, leveling the Shadowkeeper and hitting the trigger as soon as he lined up on the more eager stun lancers leading the charge. His target flipped head-over-heels - and Angelis calmly stepped over her, sliding a new violet power cell into her carbine.

"Vox Tala for Ten!" Betos and her Skirmishers fired from Gallant's podium, and their fire raked the hallways. Adventers went down screaming, and when a shot hit Angelis' shoulder, her face contorted with pain.

"This _body_..." Irritation and disappointment flashed in her eyes, and then she flattened herself behind the doorjamb.

"Volk!" Gallant waved to the hall. "Claymores!"

"Inside the ship-"

"I'd rather have a ship with holes than no ship!" Gallant ducked low as bridge techs opened up with emergency pistols. "Blow that bitch to hell!"

"You heard him! Claymores!" Volk pulled his and pulled the pin too, before hurling the device out into the hall. His contingent threw theirs, and almost half a dozen of the little things emplaced on walls and ceilings.

"Heads down!" Bradford popped up with a frag grenade, and Gallant needed no further urging. He ducked, and when his XO threw the little bomb-

 _Boom!_

It was tremendous: like someone had distilled Armageddon into a wasp's nest and hit it with a golf club. Fragments of the hallway and the vaporized door crashed down on all sides, trailing smoke and spitting tongues of flame. Advent blood flew too, and smoke rushed into the bridge. Gallant coughed, trying to wave it away, even as the entire ship shook and the lights flickered.

"Did we get her?" He popped his head up, trying to pierce the smoke cloud that had once been an entryway. "They're not shooting through the smoke...I don't see movement."

"Maybe." Zhang had a pistol of his own now, and he kept it angled right at the door. "Is there some kind of secondary blast door we can use to seal the hole-"

"Commander." A hand caught the back of Gallant's neck, and he whirled, lashing out with his elbow on reflex.

"Shoot her!" Gallant shoved the Shadowkeeper into Angelis' face, right over the soot and scuff marks on her visor. He hit the trigger the instant he had the gun pointed between her eyes-

Bubbles burst from the muzzle. Angelis' eyes glowed purple.

"...oh, shit." Gallant swallowed.

* * *

Tygan stared Kipler down, and something uneasy clicked in his old mentor's eyes. The doctor slowly removed his glasses.

"What are you implying, Richard?"

"There's only one person who could be accessing our data." Tygan shook his head slowly. "Why?"

Kipler shrugged slowly. "Advent won the war, didn't they? The way I see it, Richard, the ones holding humanity back are the terrorists blowing things up across the world. What makes you different from the old fundamentalist cells?"

"The aliens want to wipe us out-"

"You haven't seen what I've seen. You haven't worked a tour in the Forge." Kipler blew air through his teeth. "The Elders seek to elevate humanity to a higher place along with them. The sacrifice will be great, but in the end there will be a better world for it."

"Utopia justifies the means, then?" Tygan was not a soldier. There were no weapons in the SHADOW Chamber. What could he do? "I thought better of you."

"Richard, your personal experiences have led you away from Advent. You saw what I did." Kipler held out his hand. "Come back. These people are renegades and rebels: terrorists, scum, criminals...not to mention Gallant, a regular psychotic if there ever was one. You aren't like them."

"No." Tygan wasn't going to argue with that. "That's why they need me."

Kipler sighed. "Richard-"

"Save your breath, Matthew." Tygan clenched his fists. "I...I won't let you delete our data."

"Richard-"

"Back away from the terminal!" Tygan grabbed the nearest weapon, which turned out to be a large power drive, currently dormant but nonetheless heavy for it. "Matthew, I will-"

Kipler resumed typing. Tygan started his way-

The door hissed open.

" _Donut!_ " An Advent soldier marched in, reaching out imperiously. Reflexively, Tygan brained him with the power cell, and the trooper tumbled onto the nearest computer table. Tygan hit him again, then lunged for Kipler as the scientist pulled a data drive from his machine-

 _Blam!_

It hurt. It hurt a _lot_.

The power drive fell, and Tygan stumbled back into the far wall, clutching his chest. His white lab coat stained scarlet in a hurry, and his hands ran red when he pulled them away, almost too terrified to believe it.

 _Punctured lung_. Doctor that he was, the diagnosis came easily. _Missed my heart by inches_.

He collapsed, sliding down to a seat against the wall while the world went in and out. The Advent general in the doorway lowered her gun, then beckoned imperiously to Kipler. Tygan's one-time mentor - one-time _friend_ \- spared him a glance.

Then he left, flanked by the general's escort, and she turned with him, contemptuously smashing the SHADOW Chamber's main terminal with the butt of her gun in passing.

Tygan slumped onto his side, feeling his blood beat its way out of his body and watching it wash over the SHADOW Chamber's pristine floor.

* * *

"It's getting worse by the minute. They don't stand a chance."

"No." Anne Lawrence looked a lot less sanguine than she had at the start of all this. "Advent...is winning."

"Yes, they are." Janet Ross swallowed, pacing back and forth, back and forth... "Advent's going to tear them to shreds."

"Let them fight."

"Geist, can you not see-"

"Janet, I have spoken." Geist raised a hand. "XCOM are not allies of ours. Advent will be weakened by this battle, and we can-"

"We can what?" Janet glared up at his throne. "Do what, with what? Volk and Betos are aboard, and this day will be the end not only of Commander Gallant and XCOM, but the Reapers and the Skirmishers with him. We will stand alone."

"And we will-"

"Who will Angelis come for next?" Janet cried. "You would do nothing while the world burns? You would leave our fate in the hands of-"

" _I have spoken!_ " Geist's eye twitched. "Janet, you forget your place."

"Janet!" Anne drew a finger across her throat, shielded from Geist's sight by a large twisting column. "Leave it, sister: leave it."

"My place." Janet swallowed. "What you ask is something I cannot provide."

"I am your Messiah, Janet. You swore an oath to follow me."

"I swore an oath to serve your interests. Those are not the same thing."

Geist's eyes narrowed deliberately. "I will hear no more of this."

"Maybe not, but I intend to speak more of it regardless." Janet leveled her finger at the display like a sword. "I will not watch, Geist. I will _not_ watch as the fate of humanity hangs in the balance, and _you_ are too craven and petty to put your hand in the ring!"

"Janet, silence-"

"I will not watch!" She very nearly stomped her foot, and her voice drowned out the Messiah's. Every other Templar shrank back from the confrontation, eyes wide. Anne swallowed, the blood draining from her cheeks. "I will not sit here in comfort and peace and meditative tranquility, while those you call lesser fight _our war for us!_ While they _die_ \- for us!"

"That is their choice-"

"And this is mine." The words were out before she moved, but not by much. Janet turned for the far door, and her footfalls rang like gunshots through the chamber. "If I'm the only one brave enough to-"

"I'm coming." Anne took her place at Janet's right hand. If she shook, if her face was pale...that she was afraid made her no less brave. Janet was afraid too.

"Halt!"

Power crackled in the air. Janet trailed off, slowing until she stood at the precipice of the steps to the elevator. Anne froze in her tracks.

Geist rose from his chair, and he descended from his podium smoothly. Janet inhaled as he loomed, eyes crackling with purple power.

"No one is permitted to depart this place without my presence." Danger flashed in his eyes again, harsh enough Anne took a step back. " _No one_."

* * *

Julie Richardson vaulted through the trees, rifle forgotten and amp in hand. She unleashed a searing wave of power to herald her arrival, and it blew the synapses of two purifiers to Hell and back in one blast. They collapsed with brains dribbling out their ears - and that was just from being caught on the fringes of the shot.

" _You dare!_ " The Warlock staggered, hit by the full thing. He covered his face, and purple seared over his arms as he prepared his counterattack. " _What are you, little girl, to the might of the Elders' Chosen?_ "

"Mox." Julie jerked her head. "Go help Cameron."

"Are you sure-"

"Hell yeah." Julie flipped her amp up again, and her own energy pulsed and roared, running out over her palms. "This son of a bitch mind-raped my girlfriend."

The Warlock's power burst out, searing the grass around his feet. Mox skittered away, and Julie clenched her fists, wrapping the Power up in her grip.

" _Very well, child. You will have your wizard's duel_." The Warlock raised his hands, and energy burst into being above him, spiraling and swirling like a hurricane. " _You will not enjoy this - but it will be over quickly_."

"At least you're enough of a man to admit it." And Julie lunged, slinging hot psi-power left-handed.

" _Let us begin, then!_ " The Warlock flinched as it latched onto his shoulder and yanked. His retaliation was simple: he lifted a rock from the field and threw it. Julie's hand shot out and she flicked it around her back with one click of her amp. Grass ripped up by the roots, whirling around the combatants like a dust cloud.

Julie reached out for his mind, and she yelped when she made contact: something was human about it, but it was buried under so much alien...so much raw power...

" _Do you feel it now, girl?_ "

"That's what he said-"

Julie screamed as that rock hit her from behind, and she flew face-first into the dirt. She rolled out of the way as it came back down, and she clicked her amp frantically. When the rock hit the ground, it vanished - and a moment later, it reappeared right over the Warlock's head. He howled as he brained himself.

"Pay attention!" Julie jumped up, and she slung a slicing wave of power that bisected a tree and a MEC right at the waist. The top half of the tree fell, only to be caught by the invisible hands of the duelists and added to the spiraling maelstrom. The MEC's two halves flew in as well, the top spitting missiles that arced around in the dust and dirt, exploding randomly.

" _You have some skill with the Gift_." The Warlock leveled his hand, and Julie cried out as knives drove into her skull. " _I wonder how your friends will handle having those skills turned against_ -"

" _Je ne le pense pas!_ "

All the missiles shot through the cloud, and they detonated in a swarm as they crashed into the Warlock's chest. He flew backward with a cry, and Julie collapsed to her knees, clutching her head as the world rang.

"You are an idiot!" Sylvie caught her under the arm, then slapped her: hard enough the world abruptly stabilized. "I leave you out of my sight for one minute-"

"Get out of here, Sylvie-"

" _I will burn you both alive!_ " The Warlock bounded up through the smoke, power glowing on his hands. " _To the Void with you!_ "

"Watch out!" Julie hit her amp at the same time as Sylvie, and they caught searing beams of violet energy with their own. Beams crossed and spat sparks, and little fires ignited in the grass. Flaming strands of vegetation joined the chaotic whirling display, and that rock tumbled through it all, nearly cracking Julie's skull wide open.

" _You have no prayer of triumphing over me!_ " The Warlock stepped over the body of a muton Mariah had done her thing to, curling his lip. " _Your power is as weak as your Resistance's mortal strengths_ -"

"Julie!" Sylvie jerked her head once in command. Julie's eyes flicked to the target, and she saw what her girlfriend had. But with the Warlock's power boring into her, she couldn't-

" _No!_ " Julie got out nothing more coherent than that when Sylvie dropped her shield, taking the Warlock's blast right in the chest. She flew with a scream, steaming from every inch of her armor, and flipped horizontally right into a great thick tree that shook from the impact.

She lay so very still...

" _You fucking son of a fucking bitch!_ " Julie shrieked, hurling more of her essence into the attack. Her beam eclipsed the Chosen's at a rapid rate, driving his energy back toward his palms. His eyes actually widened.

" _You truly think that much of her, then?_ " The Warlock bore down on her, pushing even harder himself. The beam stabilized as they both committed. Julie had no words: just screaming hate and desperation as she prayed Sylvie had survived the hit. There was still purple energy glowing around her form, so maybe...maybe...it couldn't all be residual...

 _Bang!_

Julie screamed as something drove hard into her leg. She crashed on her side, and the psi-energy billowing between her and her enemy dissipated in a flash. Smoke rose from the muzzle of the Warlock's rifle, and he calmly took aim while Julie clutched her mangled calf.

" _I am impressed by your skill. In another life, I would enjoy testing our strengths more properly_." The Warlock sighted in. " _Unfortunately, I have a war to win, and my pets are not yet here to feed on you. Don't worry: they will come soon, and your corpse will-_ "

Purple shot in from the side, and it latched hard onto the muton corpse. The Warlock whirled-

The muton's plasma grenade went off. Julie covered her head, throwing herself flat as the green explosion tinted the world and flung the remnants of the psi-tornado's captives aside into the forest.

When the blast cleared, there was no sign of the Warlock.

"Julie!"

"I don't..." She burst into tears as her savior knelt beside her, ripping her calf plating open to get a look at her wound. "I thought he killed you!"

"Sustainment." Again, Sylvie's accent turned the _-ment_ into _-mon_ , and wasn't that just the hottest thing ever? "It's what you did when the Hunter shot you. I had to trigger the grenade, which meant I had to break the beam battle without losing it, which meant I had to take the shot-"

"Shut the fuck up!" Julie grabbed the back of her head, and careless for the war around them, she gave her girlfriend the deepest, longest, and sexiest kiss she'd ever given anyone. "What? Isn't that what a damsel in distress does for a knight in-"

"Come on, losers!" Aileen appeared across the clearing, firing into the melee and grinning like an idiot. "We've got a transmitter to destroy!" She paused, as if considering. "And I'd think doing it right here on the leaves and the rocks and the blood would be uncomfortable-"

"You're a bitch." But Julie forced her way up, using her power to create a psionic splint. "Lead on and shut up, LT."

* * *

 _Bang! Bang! Bang!_

Angelis shrugged off the incoming gunfire, slipping behind the holoprojectors for the globe. Gallant threw himself backward, abandoning the Shadowkeeper and grabbing his reassembled cane as Advent stun lancers charged through the breach in the doorway. Their batons flashed, and bridge techs went down, screaming and thrashing.

"Hold the line!" Bradford kicked open a canister, and from it he drew the Kickass Assault Rifle of Death. It spat lead, and he ventilated two lancers before they could reach Volk. "This is it! This is the big push!"

"And I was wondering when Advent would get serious!" Gallant flung himself to the side as more mag-fire came in, scouring the bridge. Betos' crew returned fire.

" _Donut!_ " A purifier appeared, grabbing for Gallant's throat, and he drew his cane-sword and stabbed the son of a bitch about fifteen times. It wailed piteously, but Gallant's stock of pity for Advent was limited, veering toward none.

"Watch out!" Bradford shoved Zhang aside, and he opened up with the rifle again. His bullets went out - and they pinged off Angelis' chest in a great tide, flying away across the bridge and ricocheting over the whole mess. Angelis shook her head to clear it as Zhang put a mag-shot into her face, but on she came-

"Gotcha!" Gallant stabbed her in the ribs. Angelis' eyes snapped to him.

Then she vanished in an explosion of purple light, and Gallant had no more support. He thumped down onto the deck, while Angelis appeared in the far corner of the room, hissing as she clutched the puncture in her flank. Red blood dripped out from the wound.

"Volk!" Betos grappled an Adventer, and she hurled him across the bridge. Volk caught the fellow and floored him, beating his face in with two strikes from his vektor butt. In return, he popped up the instant he was done and squeezed off a snapshot that went right into the eye of a lancer racing up on Betos' flank. Her ripjack flashed as she fended off his companions, one of whom tumbled down the stairs from the elevated platform with his throat slit. Gallant seized his mag-rifle, and he used it to mow down a trio trying to flank Zhang and Bradford's firebase out from the left. Chilong did battle with fists and pistol, while Bradford laid down heavy covering fire - and whenever they missed one, golden-haired Irina Vasilieva fired a burst from the observation balcony, punching golden mag-tracers into anyone who forgot she was there. She even got a shot into Angelis as the Elder lunged for new cover, and she let out a snarling curse in what sounded like her native tongue.

"Piss off!" Gallant cut another soldier's throat when he got in too close, then scrambled to recover his pilfered rifle. He let out a long burst that pinned Angelis in place, blowing chunks from the column she sheltered behind. Purple glowed from her position-

"Ah!" Irina was first, clutching her head and lapsing into a set of curses in Russian. She collapsed on her side, thrashing.

"Shit!" It was Volk next, and he went down almost at Betos' feet. She lasted only a second longer, and then Bradford cried out, and Zhang, and the techs and the Reapers and Skirmishers and-

"God damn it!" Gallant dropped his gun, clutching his temples as the world went hazy and pain rippled over his world. He fell to his good knee, shaking himself to try and get the vision out-

 _Boom_.

"No. No."

"Commander."

It was her. It was her, and there she stood: bikini-and-sarong-clad as he remembered, toes sunk into the LA shore in the dark. The faintest streams of light hung on the far horizon, hinting at oncoming sunrise even if Gallant couldn't yet make out if it were lie or truth.

And he knelt in the sand, helpless as Angelis strode his way.

* * *

Cameron caught the Assassin's wrist as her sword came for him. He cried out when it drove instead into his side, but that was better than his throat. Irritation flashed in her eyes.

" _You are resourceful. That won't be enough to_ -"

"Let go of him, skank!" Liang hit her from behind with the butt of her cannon, and the Assassin dropped Cameron. He hit the ground on his rear, and he rolled frantically to get away as she plunged her sword into the dirt where he'd been. The Chosen whirled, and all that saved Liang's life was that she took the shot on her armored chest plate. The sword nearly punched through it regardless, and she flew a good twenty feet, hitting hard on her shoulder and sliding until she crashed into a stand of rocks.

"Liang!" Cameron scrambled up to his feet, ducking when the Assassin came in for him again. He punched her in the face, which made him feel good - and got a headbutt for his trouble, which broke his nose and sent him tumbling onto his back. A low roar filled the world, one that made the ground seem to shake.

" _I suggest you lie still._ " The Assassin loomed, blade upraised. " _I confess to indifference about the nature of the afterlife. Still, if you believe in one, know that your girlfriend will join you in but a moment's time_ -"

 _Boom!_

The incendiary grenade Liang had stuck on the Assassin's belt detonated, and Cameron shielded his eyes from the blast of heat and hate. A moment later, pistol fire echoed from the Grenadier's position: evidently she'd found Cameron's discarded sidearm. The Chosen snarled and spat, reeling as she beat at the flames coating her back.

" _You will die for that!_ " She howled, dropping and rolling to put out the worst of it. " _I will kill you both slowly_ -"

The roar got louder, and Cameron abruptly realized what it was when the shape appeared in the sky. His eyes widened.

" _Fucking_ -" He scrambled to his feet and bolted, heedless of the possibility of being shot. He tore right for Liang, covering his head as the Assassin whipped out her shotgun and took aim at the both of them-

"Down!" He tackled Liang, and the pair rolled into cover. The Assassin started their way - but froze a moment later, and Cameron knew why.

"Holy _shit!_ " Liang screamed, as the Skyranger came down like a meteor, slamming into the disbelieving Assassin's still form like a lightning bolt from Zeus.

Cameron barely heard her. The detonation was incredible, as the Skyranger's engines and fuel tanks cooked off in a tremendous blast that sent shrapnel and dirt flying in a thousand directions. Smoke blasted outward, and metal flipped through the air like arrows and spears flung by titanic forces of physics. Cameron drove his head into the dirt, throwing himself overtop of Liang while she shrieked. The pyre shot into the sky like a signal, and hot wind whipped at the clearing even while overpressure nearly blew his eardrums out.

The stillness after the blast was almost eerie.

"Are you okay?" Cameron pulled Liang to her knees. She coughed, spitting dirt, but nodded nonetheless. Cameron had to cough too. But...

"Firebrand?" Liang beat him to it, keying her com while she tried to clear her throat. "Firebrand, how copy, over? Firebrand?"

Nothing. Cameron sucked in breath.

"Stay here!" He left Liang behind, not hearing if she called after him. He ran past spots of flaming fuel and burning brush, stepping over discarded parts and ducking under the still-burning remnants of an engine. He passed one of the tail stabilizers, still at full power and bouncing around the ground trying to ignite a forest fire.

"Firebrand?" Cameron coughed again as smoke poured into his lungs. He reached the fuselage, and he paused to rip at the shirt of the first fallen Adventer he could find. He wrapped the fabric around his hands, prying at fallen wreckage that impeded his progress. "Firebrand! Speak to me, come on!"

"Moose?" That was her! Cameron arced toward the motion he saw in the wreckage, shoving garbage aside as best he could.

"Hang in there!" He hurled one of the drop bay seats aside, and that was what he needed. Cameron pushed through the gap he'd created, and then he was in what was left of the cockpit.

"I'm hanging." Firebrand coughed, and Cameron didn't like how weak she sounded. He fished out his pocketknife and quickly cut the straps on her safety harness.

"Hang a bit longer, okay?" He put the knife away, and then he tugged the pilot up into his arms. She let out a grinding hiss when he extracted her from the wreckage, and one of her legs trailed limply - and her foot was bent at one hell of an angle - but she gripped his shoulders tightly as he forced his way out of the firestorm.

"Come on." Cameron pushed out of the wreckage and into clearer air. He staggered under the pilot's weight, nodding as Liang fell in with her cannon back in hand and relief plastered over her face. She had his pistol, too, and Cameron let her thrust it back onto his belt. "We're gonna get you to Lieutenant Quinn. You're going to be okay, Firebrand-"

"Please." She coughed again, and then grabbed for her helmet. Cameron paused when she undid the release, letting the heavy thing fall to the forest floor.

"Oh, God, I can breathe..." The green-eyed brunette underneath sucked in a long one to prove it. "And please, Moose...my name is Lilah."

"Why'd you do it?" Cameron drunk in the lines of her face, but he didn't let himself stop moving. He carried her away from the flaming Skyranger - and he winced as something big exploded from further back. "You just trashed our only-"

"Fuck you too, Moose. Saved your sorry Canuck hide, and you're in on lecturing me?" She scoffed. "Won't bother next time, how's that?"

"Listen, you!" Liang shook her head. "That was the most insanely idiotic, reckless, and heroically brave thing I've ever seen in my life."

"I'm a competitive girl. I'll top it." Firebrand - Lilah - groaned when Cameron had to bounce over a log. "It hurts when you jostle me."

"I'm sorry, but we've got to get you to Aileen. Or Charlotte. Maybe-"

"Lieutenant!" Liang lead the way out of the treeline, and Cameron spotted the Irishwoman a moment later. He angled that way, passing Junior, Mox, Dragunova, Mariah...

"There's the target!" Aileen pointed right at a towering alien spike of evil metal, one pulsing with yellow electrical energy. Fatima and Mariah started that way, Charlotte and Meysam on their heels. Kang and Nui and David covered them, heads swiveling as they sought targets.

"Lieutenant!" Cameron hurried closer, gently setting Lilah down on a rock. "We've got wounded!"

"You..." Aileen blanched when she saw her. "Lord! What did you do, Firebrand?"

"Something stupid. You know me. I'm a sucker for a cute boy." Firebrand waited while Nessie buzzed around her leg, dispensing her medical supplies. "Did we win?"

"If we can get enough firepower to blow this transmitter, yeah." Julie joined them, Sylvie hovering protectively at her flank. "But we haven't seen much in the way of Advent since the Warlock retreated-"

"Contact!" Mariah snapped her gun up and fired. Mox and Dragunova did too, but quickly broke off. Cameron's head twisted around.

"Oh...fuck..."

" _This has been fun, hasn't it?_ " The Hunter emerged from the trees, along with his dozens of mutons and soldiers, all taking steady aim. Spectres and codices accompanied him, and a battery of red-painted MECs. " _Be so kind as to lay down your weapons, please?_ "

" _No please about it_." The Warlock loomed with sectoids and priests at his back, cutting the XCOM forces off from retreat. " _Lay down your arms now_."

* * *

 **Author's Note 58: Competing Perspectives**

Yes, Kipler is intentionally espousing the same beliefs I heard left and right when XCOM 2 was announced. I said I wanted to explore almost everything that could happen in the game, and here's part of it: the various interpretations of what's actually happening.

This chapter is really long, so I'm going to keep the AN short. Tune in next time to see things get worse! I love you guys!

Until then, _Vigilo Confido_.


	59. What Shall We Die For?

_Please remember to favorite and follow!_

* * *

 _"_ _I have cherished the ideal of a democratic and free society in which all persons live together in harmony and with equal opportunities. It is an ideal which I hope to live for and to achieve. But if needs be, it is an ideal for which I am prepared to die."_

 _~Nelson Mandela_

* * *

 **Chapter Fifty-nine: What Shall We Die For?**

Cameron swallowed, neck twisting as he looked around the arrayed Advent legions. There were dozens...hundreds of soldiers...

"Lieutenant?" Julie shot Aileen a worried glance. "Are we going to...are they..."

Aileen didn't respond.

"Stay with me." Cameron drew his pistol, gently touching Firebrand's shoulder. "Just stay close to me."

"I will." That was uncharacteristically subdued, even if the way she drew her own sidearm was normal.

" _We won't wait forever, kids._ " The Hunter sighed, then glared at Meysam where he stood with Kang and Nui and Charlotte. Mariah shot him an obscene hand gesture.

" _This is the Elders' grace we offer. Left to our own devices, we would not be nearly so generous: one of the few areas where my brother and I are in agreement_." The Warlock held up three fingers. " _Three._ " He curled one. " _Two_."

Aileen raised the Bolt Caster. Mox and Dragunova readied their guns, and Sylvie and Julie squeezed each others' hands. Liang swallowed loudly, and Cameron squeezed her shoulder too.

" _One_." The Warlock sighed a moment later. " _Very well. In that case-_ "

 _Blam!_ Something purple shot up behind him, tinting the light from the EMP spike, and the Chosen cut off with a strangled gasp.

" _Today, you bear witness-_ "

"Hell yeah!" Mariah's face lit up.

"- _to the true power of the Templar Order_ -"

"Geist, you _son of a bitch!_ " Dragunova's smile would have lit up a black hole.

"- _firsthand!_ " And Geist stabbed the Warlock again with both arm-blades, and then a dozen screaming Templars appeared from glowing purple holes in thin air, led by a wild redhead who hacked her way through a dozen stun lancers in half as many seconds. Lightning seared from their hands, blowing entire formations left and right and scattering their elements. Automatic pistols roared, and bullets drove into modified alien flesh in counts of tens.

" _Vox Tala for Ten!_ " Mox roared, before unloading with his bullpup. Adventers went down on all sides, and Cameron scrambled to pick out his own targets. Junior's rocket flew and Julie and Sylvie let loose their psi-powers, while Aileen put her Caster shot right into the Hunter's midsection. He flew back into the trees with a strangled cry, a lemon drop popping out of his mouth, and his brother cried out as Liang and David both hit him with frags when Geist vaulted into the midst of the MECs, blades carving metal limbs apart without hesitation.

"Hit them!" Mariah led the charge, shard gun roaring, and Fatima covered her from the flank. The Egyptian's rocket lanced out and blew a MEC into ashes - and then that redhead was among XCOM's ranks, alternating between flailing magic-arm-blade slashes and spinning kicks that floored men twice her size.

"Stay with me!" she cried, before bringing her hands together. A pillar of light shot up in front of her, absorbing twenty Adventers' worth of mag-rounds that would have eviscerated Cameron and Firebrand. He could only stare in awe as the shots _reflected_ , soaring back out and cutting down their own senders while leaving the Templar's shield unmarked.

"...come on!" Cameron took his spot at Liang's right hand, and together they charged, weapons blazing, into the chaotic melee ahead.

* * *

"It's time to come home, Edward." Angelis loomed over him, sarong blowing in the breeze as the light continued to build from the east. She offered a mimosa one-handed, smiling down in the dark. "It's time to let this end."

"You..." Gallant shook his head dazedly. "You did something. Psionics."

"It's the one thing I _do_ , Commander."

"And what?" Gallant spat right on her bare foot. "You think I'll just come walking back with you, right off my ship?"

"Frankly, Edward, I don't think you have another choice." Her purple eyes hardened just a little. "I would like us to be friends, but in the end, if it saves my people I have no compunctions about your choosing the way of pain." The violet energy in her gaze built just a little. "I compel you, with all my power."

Gallant cried out as it felt like a wet blanket wrapped around his head. He couldn't breathe...psionic energy clouded his vision, tugged on his synapses like puppet-strings...

...and kept tugging...

...and Gallant slowly realized he could still think.

"...wait." Angelis blinked very slowly. "I don't..."

Gallant let out a long, slow breath. The sand around his hands shifted, lifting up into the air and scattering as if on a heavy wind. Below the grains was metal decking, and as the ocean blew away on the blue-tinted breeze, it revealed the bridge.

"...you made a goddamn mistake hooking me into your neural network, didn't you?" The last thing of the beach Gallant saw before he tackled Angelis was the sun bursting over the far horizon.

Gallant and Angelis slammed into the holodisplay, and sparks flew as he seized her by the hair and shoved her head into one of the projectors. She let out a wail, and then her knee came up to crack into his mangled leg. Gallant smashed his head into hers when she popped out of his grip, and the Elder stumbled backward.

"Enough!" She drew a surge of violet energy, slinging it right at him. It hit like a tide at a water park: cold, inundating, vicious...

...and it didn't sink in.

"What are you?" Angelis cried, as Gallant threw himself on her again, cane-sword flying back into his hand. He bashed it into her forehead hilt-first, giving him the time he needed to flip it and slice open her other rib. Angelis vanished in a blast of psi-energy, reappearing across the bridge-

"Stop it!" She slung another blast of purple, this one smelling of the aftereffects of napalm. Another came, then another, and her eyes widened with each attack - and with each time they hit Gallant dead-on and scattered around him, barely slowing him down as he seized the bottom half of his cane and lunged across the bridge.

"Get off my ship!" Gallant slashed her outstretched arm the minute he was close enough, and her amp soared into a far corner. Angelis brought her gun up, desperate terror shining in the depths of her gaze, and Gallant abandoned his blade to seize the weapon. He yanked, and though she was stronger, Gallant twisted the gun and broke her grip in an instant. He bashed her in the stomach with the butt, then threw the carbine aside as Angelis kicked him.

"This _isn't possible!_ " She grabbed him by the throat. "I am the pinnacle of the Ethereal Ones!" She hoisted Gallant up higher into the air, and he clutched at her grip on his neck. "If I can't break your mind, I will make you submit with my hands!"

* * *

"Come on!" Meysam Saleh put a shot into a muton's head, and the beast collapsed in a heap at Mariah's feet. Young Miss Bradford was a veritable war machine, firing a hail of shard gun blasts on all sides and axing down anyone who got too close for those. Nui, Fatima, and Kang moved in the pair's wake, laying down suppressive fire on anyone who came too close.

"Spike!" Mariah threw her axe next, and it dug into a purifier's tank. The soldier had time to gasp before he exploded, pitching shrapnel and refuse into all of his companions. They scattered, and for a moment...

"Do it!" Mariah dove backward as a path to the spike cleared. Janet Ross flipped over her, cutting down two stun lancers coming on in her wake. Geist, Anne Lawrence, and the other Templars cut their way through dozens of Adventers without hesitation, slicing weapons and bodies equally. Their lightning bolts and beams of cover from Heaven dominated the field.

"Going out!" Dragunova threw, and two claymores at once arced across the field. They latched onto the spike, and Meysam worked the bolt. He brought his rifle up, sighting in with a careful breath.

"Take the shot!" Julie raced past him, firing from the hip as Advent's soldiers shrieked and counterattacked, lunging right for Meysam. Sylvie and Charlotte followed her, and Junior with his helix-cannon spitting hate and death. He punched a berserker that tried to get too close, and the beast flew back right into the EMP spike.

Meysam let out his breath...and hit the trigger.

The claymores went up on contact, and their combined firepower erupted with a blast that made everyone scramble for cover. The explosive force drove hard into the spike's internal workings, shredding processors and flinging armor plate aside. Deep inside, a flying piece of shrapnel punched into a power relay cable, which set off a chain reaction down the spike all the way to its power core.

The spike exploded with the force of its final pulse, blowing its top half up into the sky on a trail of fire while the remnants went out, cutting down dozens of Adventers.

" _Avenger_ , this is Menace!" Meysam fired again, cutting down a soldier dangerously close to shooting Mariah. She smiled at him, but then she was back to kicking ass, and he hunted for his next target. "The spike is down!"

* * *

" _The spike is down!_ "

"It's too late. It's all too late." Angelis slammed Gallant into the far wall, and rage built up in her eyes. He struggled to breathe, feeling his body's weakness as she held him like a ragdoll. "I will take you back with me, Commander, before this ship turns into a funeral pyre for your entire Resistance movement-"

She screamed as bullets hammered her back. Several burst out her chest, and Gallant yelped when one went through her and dug into his leg. At least it was his bad leg, not that it helped him much when Angelis dropped him.

"That was for Moira!" Bradford hit Angelis in the back of the head with his now-empty rifle, then discarded it and whipped the knife off from his shoulder. Angelis whirled, giving him a solid punch to the face despite her wavering legs. She caught Bradford's first attempted stab-

"Gotcha!" Gallant seized his blade and drove it through the back of her knee. Angelis let out a piercing shriek.

It cut off when Bradford rammed his knife into the side of her neck. Angelis' eyes widened.

"You..." Angelis froze as red dripped from the corners of her mouth. She even reached up to dab at it, as if surprised. "You haven't seen the last of me, Commander."

She exploded, and the backblast of psi-energy flung Gallant and Bradford two different ways. Gallant hit the wall, while his XO tumbled into the tech pit right over the holodisplay. The world spun and shook, and Gallant smelled the salty sea air of Southern California.

It made him terribly homesick.

"Avenger? _Come in! This is Menace, the spike is down_ -"

"Menace." Gallant found his voice. "We copy. Get back to the ship, now. We are leaving." He switched channels. "Doctor Tygan, the EMP is disabled. Reinitialize the power core."

Silence.

"Doctor?" Gallant thumped his head back into the wall, clutching the bullet wound in his thigh while Zhang and Volk collected the pieces of his cane and Betos directed the counterassault into the passageways. "Doctor Tygan! Someone better be dying, Doctor, because if you don't get that power on _now_ , we're all up Shit Creek!"

* * *

Pain. Haze. Red.

Tygan's world swam in and out of those conditions. The agony in his chest pulsed and beat, like the blood rushing out of him had its own tempo. It stained his chest and the floor, and it even soaked into his pants after this long. It was warm, and it was sticky.

" _Doctor?_ "

Tygan lifted his head, groaning with the effort. There was his com, lying on the floor a meter distant. How he'd heard the call...

"Com...Command..." Words were hard. They slipped through his mental fingers as soon as he thought he had a hold of them. The world hazed out again.

" _The spike is down. Tygan, we need the power core reengaged_ now _..._ "

Tygan groaned again, this time as he reached out. He caught onto the SHADOW Chamber floor, hauling himself arm over arm. He left a red trail behind him, and every time his wound scraped over the floor...

It wasn't as painful as cutting the chip out of his skull. Tygan grunted, but he persevered, despite the living fire tearing him apart.

"Power...power is..." He forgot that he didn't have his com in. Nothing mattered: not that, not the pain, not Kipler's betrayal or the incursion into the ship or...any of it. Tygan reached up, grabbing for his computer console. There was the button he needed, right there...

He couldn't reach it. Tygan's strength failed, and he collapsed on his face. The world hazed...it spun and wavered out of focus...

...he hurt _so_ much...

"Kipler..." He still couldn't believe it. After all this time...the man he'd trusted so much...

It didn't make sense. Tygan couldn't grasp what would turn the man he'd respected, who'd taught him, into an Advent puppet. He couldn't grasp anything. He hurt...

" _Doctor!_ " Gallant's voice was faint in the distance, ringing from the discarded com piece. " _Doctor, we're in the shit! Get those engines online or we're done here!_ "

Engines. Tygan's eyes went up to his console again. He couldn't reach.

If he didn't reach, XCOM was done. If he didn't reach, Kipler won.

Tygan screamed with exertion as he shoved himself up, grabbing the edge of his table. His body shook all over, and blood ran over his keyboard and his computer chair. He didn't care: he didn't care about any of it, not one bit.

All he cared about was the button on his screen, and the fact that he managed to get his thumb on it.

The power core engaged with a terrific _thrum_ , and the floor shook as it did. The SHADOW Chamber's computers powered back on in one great wave, and Tygan managed a gasping cry of victory.

Before he collapsed on his back, choking on his own blood.

"Doctor Tygan!" The infirmary nurse rushed in, eyes wide and horrified. "Doctor, hang on-"

That was the one thing he couldn't do. Darkness swept over him like a tide.

* * *

The power core engaged with a terrific _thrum_ , and the floor shook under Lily's feet. Engineering terminals lit up almost as one, running through their boot checks, and sparks flew from exposed parts and wires that had been jostled loose in the crash.

" _Shen, Tygan's reengaged power._ " Gallant paused for a breath." _Activate the main engines and get us out of here._ "

"...Jiaying..."

She didn't respond. Lily's cousin abandoned her gun, reaching into the paneling at her side. She pulled out a red wire, and she fished with purpose left-handed.

Lily couldn't get to her in time. She couldn't...the lights revealed Vermuelen's gun, lying under a computer table, but even that was too far...

...the computer hummed and whirred.

"Jiaying, wait!" Lily scooted over that way, and she plucked up the object she'd left lying on the table so long ago. She plugged it into the back of the machine as surreptitiously as she could, and its humming accelerated the instant she did. "Don't do this!"

"You're too late, Lily." Jiaying ripped an orange wire from the wall with a glint of victory in her eye. She ripped the sheathing off the red one, then the other. "Time's up."

" _Shen?_ " Gallant didn't sound happy. " _Shen, report_."

"If you do that, we'll all be destroyed." Lily put her hands up as nonthreateningly as possible. "Jiaying, _please_ , don't-"

"The decision has been made." Jiaying swallowed, hesitating despite her rhetoric. Lily blinked.

"...you don't have to die today." She took a careful step forward. "Jiaying, you can see your son again...your parents-"

"Just stop." Jiaying sighed. "I wish you hadn't made this necessary. I tried to warn you all off the course you chose. This was the only outcome."

"Jiaying..." Lily felt a single tear run down her cheek. "Please."

"I'm sorry, Lily." Jiaying turned, and her nostrils flared. "This way, my parents and my son get to live, even if it's without me. It's the _only_ way."

She brought the wires together.

The lights went out across Engineering in one fell swoop. The power core whined as it went down on the reset cycle, and every terminal flickered and crackled. Reserve power diverted, seemingly of its own accord, and a light behind Jiaying clicked on, backlighting her perfectly as she stared at the wires in confusion.

"What the-"

" _Shen, what the hell is happening down there-_ "

" _Now, Lily!_ " Julian cried from the speakers, his face appearing on his now-wirelessly-enabled terminal.

She didn't need the urging. She'd already knelt down, already swept Vermuelen's gun up from the floor, already brought it up two-handed even as the lights came back on-

 _Bang!_

Jiaying let out a harsh cry as the first shot went into her shoulder. She tried to bring the wires together-

 _Bang!_

The second shot took her in the chest. She staggered, legs nearly giving out, but she still had the wires. Shock blossomed over her face and horror filled her eyes as they bore on Lily's-

 _Bang!_

Jiaying Shen crashed back into the wall, wires flying from her hands as the third shot hit her in the base of the throat. She choked, red running from her wounds...before slumping down at the base of the wall, unmoving.

Silence filled Engineering.

"Oh...my God..." The pistol fell from Lily's nerveless fingers, clattering down on the deck at her feet. She took a half-step back, only for her suddenly-weak legs to give out under her.

Her cousin lay there, perforated by magnetic rounds...and Lily had been the one to fire them.

"My God..." She clutched at her face, feeling the blood that didn't physically coat her hands. "Out...damned spot..."

" _Shen, these things are still coming_." Gallant's voice took on a new, worried tone. " _Shen, you need to engage the engines or none of us are leaving here today!_ "

"Jiaying... _Jiaying_..."

" _Shen, status report. Shen? Kelly, are you there? What the hell is going on down there?_ "

Lily muted her com. All she could see was Jiaying...her cousin, her family...

" _Lily_." Julian's face appeared on the primary monitor. " _I rebooted the power core, but the engines are activated by a manual lever. I can't move something I can't touch_."

"I...I killed her." Lily's brain couldn't move past it. It never would, never, she knew that in her heart. "I shot her...she...she wasn't doing it by choice...she's dead, Julian..."

" _If you don't pull that lever, Lily, she dies for nothing anyway_."

Lily's gaze flicked up to his face, red and glowing on the primary monitor. Somehow, though it was the same graphic as always, she thought there was...empathy in its contours.

Lily pushed herself up and seized the engine control lever in both hands.

If she collapsed again when she'd finished, and if she cried over her cousin's body...she'd still done her part. And now there was someone else to take the load from there.

* * *

" _Commander, Central_."

"What the-" Bradford leveled his rifle at the holodisplay as _Julian_ 's icon appeared in it. Gallant caught his arm, though his own eyes bulged too.

"Jesus Christ, how did you-"

" _There's no time. The engines are online and the ship should be clear for takeoff within sixty seconds. You need to recall Menace with all haste_."

"...oh, so you're on our side now?" Bradford gaped.

" _Once again, you earn top marks. Why did Commander Gallant keep you on as XO again?_ "

"It's been one hell of a morning." Gallant keyed his com, waving Bradford down. "Sure, Julian's on our team now. Whatever." He cleared his throat. "Menace, the ship is clear for takeoff. Get your asses back here on the double."

" _Roger that!_ " Aileen waited a moment, then chimed back in. " _Enemy's in disarray. The Templar elements are leading the path back to the ship. Firebrand's in tow, but she and Julie are wounded._ "

" _Commander_."

"Mariah?" Gallant frowned. "Something to report?"

" _Sir...it's not going to matter_."

"Say again, Bradford." Gallant frowned.

" _The enemy's deploying chryssalids and codices. Fast movers, supplemented by MECs. Sir, if we all fall back at once...they'll just advance with us. With Julie and Firebrand wounded, we can't all just run. They'll pick us off_."

Gallant eyed the holodisplay. "Corporal, there is a battleship inbound from the Florida Keys. It'll be here in eleven minutes, and it'll pound half of Virginia into slag from orbit. Staying is not an option."

" _I'm not saying we all stay, sir_."

Gallant slowly leaned one hand on the rail. "Mariah...anyone who doesn't fall back to Avenger within nine minutes is as good as dead. Whoever stays behind..." He swallowed. "We won't be able to come back for them."

Silence deafened the bridge. Volk's face paled, and Betos let out a slow breath.

" _I know, sir._ " Mariah's voice was small, but she sounded just like... " _I'll do it_."

"Mariah..." Gallant took one look at the stricken, shocked expression on Bradford's face, and his chest tightened. "Mariah, this is-"

" _Well, sir, it's like my father would say: if you have a shot, you take it._ " That made Bradford jerk as if he'd been hit over the head.

Gallant stood alone, and the only man in his mind was his father, all those years ago.

 _Sometimes, Edward, being in command just means you get to choose who dies_.

"...Mariah, I cannot order you to do this."

" _You can't order me not to, either_."

" _Or me_." That was David White, and he sounded just as set. " _What? One little kid with a shard gun? They'd roll right over you if you were alone._ "

"I'm going." And without another word, Zhang left the bridge.

"I don't think Captain Kelly would-"

" _This is my choice, Commander. We talked_." David let out a wry chuckle. " _Forgive me for being happy you'll be the one who has to deal with her._ "

Gallant swallowed.

* * *

"Oh...ow." Jane Kelly rolled onto her side, groaning as consciousness belatedly, argumentatively, returned. She clutched the boiling agony in her chest. "...someone shot me..."

She sat up, crying out as her body declared it a bad idea. She clutched her head one-handed, feeling around for her shard gun with the other. Through the haze of her vision, she saw...

"Shen?" She paused a moment later. "And _Shen_?"

"She was the traitor." Lily's eyes were glassy, devoid of hope and ringing with misery. Her tone was so blank... "I killed her."

"...Shen, I..." Jane got her feet under her. "I'm sorry-"

" _This is Gallant on all channels. If Mariah and David are determined to do this, you better not waste the chance._ "

"Chance? Do what?" Jane hit her com. "Bridge, this is Kelly. What the hell is happening?"

" _Captain..._ " Gallant clearly had no idea where to begin. " _Mariah and David have...made the judgment that the enemy force_ -"

"Fucking hell!" Jane seized her arc blade and threw it over her shoulder. She opened another channel. "David, you son of a bitch-"

" _We talked about this, Jane_." He let out a little chuckle. " _You said it yourself. Feel what you want and say what you want, but this is my choice. You can't take it away from me. This is what I signed up for. It's the job._ "

"No!" Jane clenched her fist. "You selfish prick! You don't get to...you don't get to...just like that-"

" _Jane-_ "

" _Tech._ " Gallant's voice was like a gunshot. " _Cut Kelly's com_."

"Oh, no! No, you fucking crippled _bastard_ -" Jane let out a wordless shriek as her com let out the dull tone of disconnection. "That's it!"

"Where are you going?" Lily demanded, still distant, as Jane stormed for the stairs. She took them four at a time, racing off for the hangar bay.

She checked that there was still ammunition in her magazine, jaw set.

* * *

" _You didn't have to do that, sir_." David sighed. " _She won't understand - but she won't sway me, either_."

"Maybe not." Commander Gallant sighed, then shrugged, as if deciding the issue wasn't worth an extended conversation. His jaw worked as he visibly thought things over. "Tech."

"Sir?" One of the men down in the pit, bleeding from a cut above the eye, glanced up.

"Set up a private line." Gallant turned back to John Bradford, and he gave him a single nod.

Bradford managed one of his own.

The tech gave him a thumbs up.

"Mariah?" Bradford stepped away from the globe, peripherally noticing Betos and Volk turn their backs as ostentatiously as possible. "Are you there?"

" _Central, sir?_ "

"Mariah..." Bradford cleared his throat. "...situation report."

" _Sir, Zhang's just made his way to us. Fatima tried to stay, but he gave her a direct order._ " Mariah hesitated. " _The enemy's probing our position right now. We found a little stand of rocks where we can hold off a good number of them for a good long while. They must be massing for a real push somewhere further back_."

"Understood. I..." A lump filled the back of Bradford's throat, and he had to clutch the rail hard with his free hand. "I appreciate what you're doing, Mariah."

" _Sir. And..._ " She hesitated. " _Sir. Central._ "

"Wait, Mariah-"

" _I just want to say I'm sorry._ " It all came out very quickly. " _I'm sorry...I'm just sorry. Everything that...I'm-_ "

"No. No, Mariah!" Bradford's arm gave out, and his legs couldn't hold him. His eyes filled and hazed, until the world was an underwater vista. He didn't even feel the impact as he landed on his knees. "Mariah... _I'm_ the one who's sorry. I'm so sorry...for everything."

* * *

Mariah Bradford felt tears trickle down her cheek. She quivered, standing under the first trickle of oncoming rain, feeling the gentle kiss of dewdrops and the caress of loving breezes.

And she smiled.

"It's okay, sir." She squeezed her eyes shut. "It's really okay."

" _It's an honor to have known you. And I should have...I should have told you sooner. I should have done a lot of things. And I hope you can..._ "

Mariah let out a long breath. "I love you...Dad."

" _Mariah..._ " He was crying. " _Mariah, I love you too_."

 _Avenger_ 's engines roared in the distance. Mariah gave the ship one glance...then the treeline full of Advent units, preparing their push.

"Now or never for them." She glanced to David, checking his grenade launcher. "You didn't have to do this with me."

"Shut up, kid." David jerked his head toward the enemy. "Save it for them, yeah? I figure I can get a couple more'n you before all's said and done."

"Thank you." Mariah glanced past him. "And you, grandpa."

"I already lost everything." Zhang had a rifle, and he had a knife, and he had a bandolier of grenades too. He cracked his neck. "I was already old. Figure I only have this one fight left in me anyway. Might as well make it one to remember."

" _Menace, this is Gallant. We are initiating final takeoff sequence_." The Commander hesitated. " _Good luck out there_."

"Save the luck for yourselves." David paused. "And make this mean something, sir. Make it matter."

" _We will._ " Gallant's voice never broke, but Mariah fancied she could hear his own distress.

"They're moving." Zhang nodded, and Mariah's gaze turned to the forest, and the stirring of hundreds of forms. "They'll be coming."

"All right, then. Let's be heroes." Mariah hefted her shard gun. She hesitated...then switched back to her private channel. " _Te amo,_ _papá_. _Adios_."

* * *

"Move!" Jane threw a shell-shocked Meysam out of her way, then bulled in between Aileen and Charlotte without a word. She tugged on the brim of her cap, shaking as she fought through the hangar for the still-open bay doors. Pneumatics hissed, and she heard the countdown announcing the close-up.

"Where are they?" She grabbed Julie by the shoulder the instant she found her. "Where the hell did they go, Richardson? Where are they set up?"

"Jane..."

"Tell me!" Her voice went so high Julie flinched. But the redhead didn't volunteer anything, and Jane swore. "Fine! Fuck you too, then!" She whirled on the gangway, and Jane checked her shard gun. "I'll find them myself."

"Jane, that's suicide!" Aileen caught her arm. Jane shook loose.

"I don't care! David's not dying without me." She shuddered at the thought, but it didn't stop her from moving. "We'll end this together. Arm in arm, shoulder to shoulder as we go down fighting. I won't be separated from him-"

Pain rolled over her in an enormous wave, searing out to her fingers and toes from the base of her neck. Jane let out a gasping, choking cry as her brain boiled in her skull, and purple overrode her vision.

"I'm sorry, Jane." Julie's eyes and voice alike bubbled over with misery and grief. "I'm losing enough friends today."

"Don't you _dare_ -"

She snapped her fingers, and Jane fell back into the swamp of unconsciousness.

* * *

"Settle down, right here." Cameron gently set Lilah on the first big crate he could find. "We'll get you down to the infirmary later, all right, Firebrand?"

"Bed rest sounds good." She held up one finger, though her grin had more exhaustion and less spunk than Cameron was used to. "Don't kamikaze into a Chosen's face, Moose. Not fun after the thirty seconds of adrenaline-infused kickass."

"I'll remember that."

"Come on!" Janet Ross waved the rest of her people aboard, personally waiting at the base of the gangplank until she was the last one out. She hurried up into the hangar, alien blood staining her thick gauntlets. "That's everyone."

"Except Mariah and David." Fatima Tariq's eyes darkened. "And Zhang."

"Yeah. Except them." Liang stared out at the forest and the oncoming rain. Her eyes darkened like the skies. "Those poor brave bastards."

"I need to speak to Commander Gallant." Geist looked around the hangar. "Where is he?"

"Bridge." Charlotte sighed a moment later. "I will take you, _monsieur_. Watching here will not make me feel any better about what is going to happen."

"Go on." Aileen held Jane in a bridal carry, and she gently pulled her back from the open bay doors. "It's okay, Charley. We won't judge."

"Moose!"

"Firebrand?" He turned.

She caught the side of his cheek. Her ash-and-soot-stained lips went up to his, and in an electrifying four seconds, he discovered at least part of the reason she had the codename she did.

"...what was that for?" Cameron stared when she let him go. She shrugged.

"You saved my life."

"You saved mine-"

"One of us owes the other a kiss and I don't care who: I just took it."

"...Moose?"

"Liang!" Cameron spun on his heel, snapping straight. She stared through vacant eyes, and Cameron's mind completely blanked. "Uh...um...well..."

 _Avenger_ bucked under his feet. The engines roared, and slowly she eased up into the air. The bay doors groaned and rumbled, rising to seal the aft end.

"They are frightened," Sylvie whispered, eyes dark. Julie nodded wordlessly, and in that moment, Cameron was _very_ glad he'd never Volunteered.

"I like to think I'd have had the guts to do it, if they hadn't." Liang drifted closer, eyes vacant. "I wish I'd thought to say something first."

"Yeah. Me too." Cameron swallowed. "Me too."

Firebrand didn't say anything. But she reached out for Cameron's hand, and when he saw the shock and misery in her green eyes, he took it.

"God, this is awful." Liang, either not noticing or not caring, buried her head in Cameron's chest. Arthritically, he wrapped his free arm around her shoulders.

They stood watching every minute until the bay doors shut.

* * *

Rain thundered down over the forest. It pounded Shaojie Zhang's still form, riddled with mag-rounds. He lay with a dozen bodies around him in various states of dismemberment and damage, and his knife was coated in yellow blood. David White sat against a rock not far away, coughing out his last breaths and a good bit of blood too. He had the laceration marks from stun lancer batons, the bullet wounds from mag-fire, and the bruises from being wrapped up by a viper.

They'd never given in, not until the last instant, and neither had Mariah.

"Ah!" She crashed on her hands and knees in the mud, gasping as the impact sent a jolt up her mangled right arm. Blood ran over her face, washed off by the pounding rain, and her leg had to be broken at the least. Her ribs burned and seared, and her various bullet wounds demanded attention in their own way. She coughed, and wasn't surprised that it came out red like David's.

Booted feet moved all around her, as the soldiers who'd taken her gun and her axe retreated. Mariah fought her way onto her knees, glaring all around as her slicked hair got into her eyes.

A purple figure loomed over her, the rain slithering down his red armor.

" _You fought with valor, child, even if it was misplaced_." The Warlock examined her critically. " _You must know where the ship whose escape you ensured is bound_."

Mariah laughed. "Like I'd tell you."

" _You are loyal. Believe it or not, I appreciate loyalty_." The Warlock glanced over his shoulder, and Mariah's breath caught when she saw the insectoid forms looming behind him, clattering and chittering amongst themselves. They darted and ducked forward, stayed from charging only by the Warlock's upraised hand. Mariah watched them set to on David and Zhang's remains, and she shivered as gore flew.

" _Your life is forfeit._ " The Warlock shifted his weight, and Mariah's eyes fixed on the rifle he'd deliberately brought into her field of vision. " _But some deaths are less...disagreeable than others_."

Mariah swallowed. She shook, too, frozen to the core by the rain and her terror alike. The Warlock knelt in the mud with her, and his hateful eyes burned with sick condescension.

" _Where is the_ Avenger _going, girl?_ " He neither looked to his pets or his gun: the offer was clear enough.

Mariah shook. She trembled, and her insides churned.

But she spat in his eye anyway.

The Warlock stood slowly. He wiped at his face with one long talon, and cold, inhuman disdain filled his gaze.

" _So be it_." He turned, striding off into the gloom. Just before he disappeared, he whistled, leveling one finger at Mariah.

She didn't think anyone would judge her for screaming when the chryssalid pack charged, David and Zhang's blood still dripping from their mandibles. They lunged for her, and fangs sunk into her arm. Mariah beat at them one-handed, crying out as the venom of at least a dozen beasts dripped all over her-

 _Boom!_

The projectile hit her like a hammerblow to the chest. Borne on a trail of black smoke, the red mag-shot rammed in right through her predator armor, blowing through her lung and out her back, flinging her almost twenty feet. She crashed in the mud and rolled, choking on her own blood. Blackness seared in quickly at the edge of her vision.

Before it claimed her, she saw the Warlock whirl...heard him shout something furious down the track of the shot...

Then there was no more pain.

* * *

 **Author's Note 59: "Hell, I'd Kill Mariah Before I Killed Mox"**

Yeah. I knew. You may not believe me, but I promise you this: I am sorry about this one.

Which doesn't change that I'd do it again.

Like the example with Irina, this was the first scene I conceived of for Mariah. Everything up until now was done with the express intent of making it mean something to you like it does to me. What's just happened will set the tone for the beginning of Season Three in more than one way - but we still have one more chapter in Season Two. I'll see you for that.

Until next time, _Vigilo Confido_.


	60. The Eternal Watch

_Please remember to favorite and follow!_

* * *

 _"_ _We must accept finite disappointment, but never lose infinite hope."_

 _~Martin Luther King Jr._

* * *

 **Chapter Sixty: The Eternal Watch**

 _"Hi, older me. I haven't done one of these in a while. I just need someone to talk to, and of all people, I guess you probably know me the best."_

Edward Gallant paused by the open doorway. He leaned hard on his cane, just listening and relishing the feel of _Avenger_ pitching in the turbulence under him.

" _Everyone's gearing up for some kind of mission. It looks like it'll be a big one. Probably more coming on its wake. I don't get told a lot anymore, not since I got bumped down to janitorial duty, but from what I hear..._ " Mariah's voice trailed off. " _It's going to be a mess._

 _"And I wish Central would let me be a part of it_."

Gallant advanced. He slowly made his way to the door, and he leaned in it, in clear view. If that made him pause the playback...

It didn't. " _I've done wrong. I've made mistakes. Maybe I deserved to be taken off active duty. Maybe I didn't. I don't know, Older Me: it's all a jumble and it's all confusing. I can't sort out how much of it is me being selfish and teenage...and how much might really be that Central doesn't know what he's doing. I don't really have anyone to help me, either._ " Another long sigh: Gallant watched Mariah's face contort on the datapad lying on the room's end table. " _I think I made a mistake. I shouldn't have left the Haven...I shouldn't have tracked down_ Avenger _, or tried, at least. I shouldn't have thrown myself into all this just because I thought I could make a difference like my father..._ " She cut herself off. " _But that doesn't matter now. None of it._

 _"What matters is that I'm going to do good. Whatever it takes. Whatever comes up, whatever opportunities arise...I'm going to do good. No matter_ what _it takes_."

"She was brave, John. Brave like you." Gallant watched him as he reached for the datapad - whether to restart the recording or shut it off, who knew.

"Brave." Bradford's eyes were heavy. The answer to Gallant's question turned out to be neither, because he just admired his daughter's face for a moment in the final freeze-frame of the video diary. Bradford poured another shot from the bottle on his nightstand, and he drained it immediately. "What do you want, sir?"

Gallant sighed. "Board game night, John. Tygan's back on his feet, even if he's getting around a lot like me about now. So we're all-"

"No, Commander." Bradford poured another drink. "Have your little party without me."

Gallant's eyes narrowed. "You can't hide in your room forever, John."

"Leave it, Edward." His eyes glittered dangerously. "You have no idea what it feels like."

"John, we've all lost people lately. Moira-"

"You think that compares?" Bradford threw himself to his feet. "Lovers die every day, Edward! She was supposed to bury _me_ , not the other way around!" He wavered. "I wasn't supposed to...I was horrible to her..." He downed that next shot. "If I'd just been a better father..."

Gallant stared. He stared, and his fingers tightened on the grip of his cane.

"What the _fuck_ , John?" Gallant propped himself up, and liquid rage seared up from his core. "She fucking died for us and you _still_ can't cut her a break, can you?"

"Watch your mouth!" Bradford loomed in front of him. "Get out-"

"You think she died because Daddy never hugged her? You think the only reason she marched off to her death was because of you?" Gallant hissed through his teeth, eyes bulging with fury. "Don't you malign her memory like that! She wanted your love and she wanted your approval, yeah, but at the end of the day, she believed in the same shit we all signed up for!"

"I was horrible to her!" Bradford turned away, storming from one end of his room to the other. "I put her down, insulted her, demeaned her, I couldn't see the good in her-"

"And you still don't! Stop making this about _you!_ " Gallant jabbed his cane into Bradford's chest. "Mariah was a strong-willed, brave young lady who wanted to see a free earth. That's why she joined up, not to win herself your love. Did you show it? Fucking hell no, and you should have, and I should have come in here to kick your ass about it a lot fucking sooner! But at the end of the day, _she was a soldier_ , and she chose to give her life for what she believed in - not for the man who didn't believe in her!"

Bradford took a step his way - and Gallant stuck a warning finger under his nose.

"Don't even." He thrust his cane into the deck challengingly. "You remember what happened in the bar when you were in your prime, John. I may be a wreck, but you couldn't take me young and sober. You really want to get your ass kicked when you're old and drunk?"

"So what? You want me to ignore my role in Mariah's death? Come play board games with you when my _daughter_ is six feet under _?_ "

"You can't change what's happened, John. If you dwell on it, you're going to wreck yourself. All you can do is move forward and not make the same mistakes again." Gallant shook his head. "We're all going to have to learn how to move on from what's happened in the last few weeks. Don't be such an asshole that you think your pain is the only agony on this ship. Don't repeat _my_ mistakes."

He turned on his heel and limped away. Before he'd even made it halfway down the corridor, he heard Bradford pouring another shot.

" _Hi, older me..._ "

* * *

Lily Shen sat in silence, turning a bolt over in her fingers. She liked the feel of rough metal: sharp and hard, yes, but it reminded her she didn't have to be the be-all and end-all of the world to be a part of it.

Her eyes drifted back to that spot against the wall. No blood marked it, not anymore, but Lily would never be able to sit in Engineering again without remembering.

" _Lily_."

"Huh?" She blinked, then glanced at the terminal at her side. "Oh. Julian."

" _You did what was necessary_." His red face flickered with a few golden streams: his way of showing emotions he didn't possess. " _She would have killed you just as surely_."

"That doesn't make it right. I..." Lily pulled her legs up into the chair, hugging her knees. "I should have seen it sooner. I should have done something...said something...if we'd only found out-"

" _You're only going to drive yourself mad_."

"I'm pretty close already." Lily looked away. "She wasn't here by choice. Her parents - my aunt and uncle, Julian, and her son...I have a _nephew_..."

" _We'll find them. Together_."

"That won't make it right!" Lily shook. "She was family, Julian. The only family I had left."

" _I'm still here_."

Lily's neck nearly cracked as she turned. She examined those red lines of code, and even if the face was the same...something was different.

"..and so the prodigal child finally returns?" She paused to wipe at her eyes, but forced a smile anyway.

" _Perhaps_." He might have sounded amused. " _And I intend to stay._ "

"Good." Lily looked up over the terminal, and her eyes traced Junior, dormant in the far corner. "You know, for the longest time, I thought he was all I had left of Dad."

" _That body was meant for me_." Julian's face flickered for a moment. " _It's what I was created for_."

"Maybe." Lily's eyes moved to the other end of Engineering, and the construction unit hard at work. "I think you'll like the Mark Two just as well when I finish uploading you."

* * *

"God damn you for being late, you prune-faced bastard." And then Volk threw his arms wide and seized Geist in a bear hug of an embrace. "And bless you for coming! We were about to throw rocks at them."

"I bet you were, Konstantine." Geist awkwardly patted his back. "You should be thanking Janet, not me. She was the one who-"

"Oh, no!" Janet cleared her throat as all eyes turned to her. "No, not at all. I just said what everyone was already thinking - Geist included. He would have come to the same conclusion either way. Just maybe a minute or two later."

"Which would have been too late." Betos offered her hand, and Janet took it, trying not to avoid the alien's orange eyes. "My kind owe yours a debt, Janet Ross."

"It's...it's nothing, really..."

"Ignore her. It was all her and she should endure your gratitude." Anne smiled when Janet hissed in her direction. "She's one of the best."

"Well, you'd better be." Volk released Geist, and now he offered Janet a more subdued handshake. "Commander Gallant has expressed interest in Templar liaisons, and he mentioned you by name, Ross."

"Say what-"

"I think it is a most agreeable arrangement. Certainly Janet is a warrior at heart, and I trust her with my life." Geist nodded. "It will be so: and I will leave Anne here with her as well. Two is better than one."

"So you're joining the Resistance now?" Betos crossed her arms, giving Geist a long once-over. "I thought you didn't work with my kind?"

"Things have...changed." He cleared his throat. "We have a common enemy: the greatest uniting factor in the history of mankind. So long as Advent reigns over this world, we cannot sit idle and do nothing. What feuds we have can wait until then."

"Hm." Volk gave Betos a glance. "I hear an echo."

"As do I. As a starting place, it is satisfactory." She nodded firmly. "Welcome aboard."

* * *

Cameron Rogers gently nudged his bishop. "Check."

"Oh, nice." Fatima scoffed a moment later. "And unwise."

"What?" Cameron sucked in breath as her knight flew in to take the bishop in question...and proceeded to fork his queen and king in the process. With a sigh, he nudged his king out of the way, and she pounced. "This is why I don't play a lot of chess."

"We did a lot of it back in the First War. I'm surprised Central isn't still riding everyone about it. He said it taught strategic thinking. And Chilong loves to..." Her eyes darkened quickly.

"I'm sorry, Fatima." Cameron looked away.

"It's fine." She inhaled slowly. "It's just...I keep thinking I'll see him. Him and Annette...Said..." Fatima brushed her hair back, studying the board very intently. "I'm the last one left. The Doctor's organization's gone: every last bit of it."

Cameron watched her for a moment as she visibly debated castling. "You're still here. And we'll be with you until the end."

" _Vigilo Confido_ , I suppose." Fatima glanced back up at him. "Are you moving today, Moose?"

"What?" Cameron blinked...then glanced down at the board. "Um. Well. It seems my men are outnumbered and outmanned. So-"

"So you need an air strike is what you're saying, huh?" A fly swatter hit Fatima's pieces, flinging them left and right with zeal. "Kamikaze!"

"Firebrand!" Cameron jumped in his seat. "You should be resting-"

"My name is nice, you should use it." Lilah gave him a very searching look. "And I'll rest when I want to and I don't want to right now. You're not man enough to make me do a damn thing."

"Uh..."

"I'm taking him, Tariq." She clapped Fatima on the shoulder. "Just a quick word, then you can kick his ass a few more times." She glanced across the room to Julie and Sylvie, quietly talking over a little brown box. "Maybe one of the psi-lesbians will play with you until then." She took Cameron's arm. "Come on, Moose!"

"I'm coming!" He stumbled to his feet. "See you around, Fatima."

"Cameron." She waved him off, busy reassembling the board almost without looking. Cameron thought she seemed a little less morose, and that was good.

"There's been too much misery on this ship since the battle," he muttered as he fell into step at Firebrand's elbow.

"Yeah. Spirits tend to go down when..." She coughed. "Yeah."

"Do you want me to come with you?" Sylvie asked, as they passed her and Julie's table. Julie rose, taking the box and shaking her head.

"No. I think if she sees the two of us both..." She sighed. "It's probably better not to remind her what she's lost, I think."

"Come on!" Firebrand didn't let go of Cameron's hand, and she tugged him off down a side passage. He stumbled in her wake, catching Sylvie give Julie a peck on the cheek and nuzzle her head into her shoulder for a minute. He missed where the redhead went from there...but after a minute, he supposed there was only one real possibility.

"You seem awfully chipper," Cameron observed as Firebrand tugged him along, practically skipping, "for a pilot without a bird."

"Don't remind me of that!" She scowled. "It won't matter anyway. It won't be a problem for long."

"I don't know where we're going to find another-"

"We'll build it, dumbass: Shen and I, like we did the first one." She laughed at his expression. "What? You thought I'd crash my baby without a backup plan?"

"To be honest, yes."

"Well, I would, but not this one time." She found what was apparently the door she was looking for. "Come on!"

"I'm coming!" Cameron followed her in: followed her into a little room that might have once been a small storage unit, that now had very little in it.

Very little except Da-Xia Liang, arms crossed in the corner.

"Liang!" Cameron hesitated. "I mean...Captain!"

"Lieutenant." She eyed him very seriously...him and Firebrand too. Cameron swallowed.

"Um..."

"This should be good." Firebrand let him go, and she took up position just at Liang's side, mimicking her pose. "Yes, Moose?"

"I..." He tugged at his collar. "I didn't...Lilah kissed _me_ , I didn't..."

"So you're choosing her?" Firebrand jerked her thumb at the Grenadier.

"I didn't say-"

"So you're choosing _her_?" Liang mirrored her. Cameron jumped.

"Wait just a minute...I don't even know what's happening here-"

"Look at him go!" Firebrand's expression broke, and a wide grin stretched her cheeks. "He's turning as red as a berserker!"

"Stay serious." Liang elbowed her in the ribs. "I know that's hard for you-"

"I'm never serious-"

"What is even happening?" Cameron resisted the urge to pull at his hair. "I didn't mean to lead anyone on, I swear - you both were the ones to kiss me, and-"

"Poor boy." Firebrand leaned back on her heels. "I don't think he gets it."

"You're not explaining anything-"

"No, he's really quite lost." Liang nodded judiciously. "I think we should clarify the situation."

"Indeed. Ladies first?"

"No, ladies first. I insist."

"Oh, very well." Firebrand leaned over-

-and gave Liang a peck on the cheek.

"...what." Cameron blinked slowly. "That...didn't explain anything at all."

"We got to talking," Firebrand said, beaming as she recovered, "just two nights ago. You've been chasing me for a while."

"I wouldn't say-"

"Shut up, Cameron." Liang gave him a gentle whack on the arm. "I saw you two kiss. Lilah checked the hangar feed and saw us."

"I'm not two-timing either of you...you both were the ones to-"

"We know." Firebrand nodded genially. "See, we both like you. And after we ruled out a duel to the death-"

"-we never discussed any such thing-"

"-it occurred to us that we were really making a big issue out of nothing, because we quite like each other too." Firebrand tilted her head to the side. "So we thought we'd spare you some trouble and just sort the whole thing out ourselves."

"So, here we are, with no issue." Liang spread her hands, grinning. "That is, unless _you_ feel the need to pick only one of us?"

Cameron lost his voice. They laughed at that too, for a good long while.

* * *

Jane Kelly lay in the darkness, still and silent. Her hair fell freely over her pillow, and her ballcap lay on her nightstand, untouched. She'd even left her datapad overtop of it, right next to her discarded shirt and the toothbrush she hadn't used in days.

The steady hum of the engines was her world.

"Jane?" Someone knocked on her door. "Jane, are you in there?"

"Go away, Aileen."

"I don't think you need to be alone."

Jane let out a slow breath, then turned her head away from the door. "I'm not decent."

"As if you ever are." The door hissed open, and Jane ignored it and the creeping light that tried to tint her world when it did. That didn't help: Aileen hit the overhead light as soon as she came in, and Jane had to squeeze her eyes shut or die.

"Lord, Irish!" Aileen did something over by her nightstand: Jane heard her drawers opening. "Fold your clothes!" She paused, then sniffed. "Has this even been washed?"

"No."

"That's no good. James wouldn't have approved." Irina limped in, taking a seat down at the foot of Jane's bed without asking. Her organic fingers reached out to touch Jane's palm. "How are you doing?"

"Fine. Just fine." She didn't react to the touch. Gray piled in at her edges. What was the point?

"You've been locked in your room since you got the new pin."

"I'm tired." Jane hoped Aileen would take the hint. "Just tired. Resting. I was shot."

"Jane?"

That punched through her drab cloud. She sat up next to Irina, eyes turning to the door. Her gaze seared into her third visitor: the one whom the doors closed behind.

"I..." Julie proffered a little brown box. "I made cupcakes."

"You blew my synapses. You...you..." Jane's eye twitched.

"I saved your life." Julie looked down. "I'm sorry."

"You should be." Jane wanted to slap her. Jane wanted to do a lot more than that: rage bubbled up and over out of the mire of her world in one sudden flash. "He died alone because of you!"

"Jane!" Aileen caught her shoulder as she tried to rise. "Don't be a bitch to Julie. She did the right thing."

Jane quivered. Hot, angry words flew into her mouth: in the depths of her rage, she wanted nothing more than to tear Julie down and apart. Every insult she could imagine, every low blow right into her insecurities...

They didn't matter. None of them mattered, because as fast as the rage came...

Jane burst into tears, dropping her head into her hands. She convulsed as her nose clogged, her hair flicking around and getting into her eyes by black magic she wouldn't understand even if she wasn't preoccupied. The temperate cool inside _Avenger_ was suddenly Arctic chill, and Jane did her level best to curl up into a ball tight enough to ward off the wreaking tremors borne of knowing there was no one left to hold her while she worked through it.

Breathing was hard. She sucked air in with ragged gulps, stolen between explosions of misery. Death was all she could see, and David's face...the face she would never see again, because now she was alone in life with nothing but this bloody hole where her heart ought to be...

Gradually, she realized that wasn't entirely so.

"Easy does it." Aileen sat at her left, patting her shoulder. "Let it out. You've been bottling it all up too long."

"You'll be all right, Jane." Irina waited at her right, studying her through hooded eyes. "You've pulled through loss before."

"I didn't...I don't..." Jane let out a wail, one loud enough even she wanted to wince. No words were enough.

"He's gone." Those were the only ones that mattered anymore. "He's gone...he's gone..."

"He is." Aileen's eyes glinted too, but her voice didn't break, and that steadiness was something Jane clung to. "But you're not, Jane."

"I should be-"

"What you're dealing with is called survivor's guilt - and you've been through enough hits from it that you should know it's full of shit." Julie offered her box of cupcakes again. "We're here for you."

"It should have been me. If it had been me..."

"If it had been you, it'd be David ugly crying all the way around the ship." Aileen wrapped her arm fully around Jane's shoulders. "You just be a wreck, alright? Some way or another, we'll find our way through the mess."

* * *

Elena Dragunova watched the hangar bay from her high perch, eyes cold as she scanned hurrying techs and flight crew. Her gaze wandered a bit further afield, and she had to sigh when she took in the little trio clustered in the corner.

"Meysam isn't taking Mariah's death well."

"I would not expect him to." Pratal Mox also watched, and his eyes shone with a very human understanding of grief and loss. "It is good that he has his friends."

"They'll help him pull through." Elena leaned back against the wall, reaching into her trench coat. "Cigarette?"

"I appreciate the thought, but no."

"Suit yourself, alien." Elena lit up in silence, relishing the drag of poison in her lungs. Yeah, sure, it would kill her eventually - but she could die from a stray mag-round or even a weak bolt in the scaffolding below her. Who cared about a maybe-someday?

Below them, Meysam turned away from Nui and Kang, trying without success to hide his face. They let him go, but not too far: yielding privacy without abandoning closeness. Elena wondered what it was like to have friends that loyal - friends who would come to your side no matter the cost or the hardship.

Of course...

"I never thanked you."

"Allies do not keep debts." Mox shrugged, then reached for the bottle he'd brought with him. "Whiskey?"

"No."

"Suit yourself, vagabond."

Elena blew out a wild cloud of smoke. "If you hadn't come for me, Pratal..."

"You would have escaped. Of this I have no doubt." He shrugged. "Without your cleverness, we never would have found you to start with."

"Perhaps." Elena shot Meysam's little group another glance. "They don't know how to handle blows like this."

"They are strong. XCOM was not built on idle hands and weak hearts. War tempers all steel."

"There's truth in that." Elena gave Mox another long glance. "Do you know that feeling? The one where you think...where you think the worst thing that could possibly have happened just has?"

"Yes, I know it. I know it well." Mox took a long drink. "I also know, Outrider, that life finds a way to prove that feeling wrong, every time."

* * *

"Bioregenesis is stable. Initiating stasis module warmup." Doctor Matthew Kipler hit buttons on his holodisplay, and diagnostics flashed up before his eyes. Din Dourde watched with arms crossed from a raised, sealed podium, studiously averting her eyes from the figure preparing for treatment. Even the transparent barrier separating them didn't seem like enough protection, not when the figure in question was...

"This mortal form is weak." Angelis' voice was strong, even if she struggled to move her replacement body's arms and legs. "We need to increase the complexity of the psionic strands. We need stronger muscle tissue - pull berserker material. Insert a splice more of sectoid enhancement, and add more cybernetic implants in the neural pathways. If an old man and a cripple can best our current prototypes in hand-to-hand combat..."

"As you wish, Angelis." Kipler bowed his head. "I'll notify the Forge facility of the template changes."

"You'll notify them in person, Doctor. You've provided me with good service, so I'm dispatching you to take command." Angelis lay back in her body's Genesis Chamber, and her violet eyes burned as she examined the ceiling. "I expect regular progress reports."

"Of course, Angelis."

" _It's a pity that spy of ours didn't survive the battle_." The Hunter sat in the corner, halfheartedly playing on his datapad. " _If she could have reengaged the tracking beacon she put aboard that stupid ship, we'd still be airborne_."

"Agreed, Mighty Hunter." Dourde sighed. "We might never get another shot at their flagship itself."

" _One way or another, I think we'll manage_." The Hunter hit a few more buttons. " _Did he just blue-shell me? He just blue-shelled me!_ " He threw the datapad, so hard and fast Dourde flinched. His revolver came out in a flash and he lined up the shot - Dourde _knew_ he'd lined up the shot picture-perfect, so she wondered why he didn't actually take it. It wasn't as if datapads were expensive.

But no. More subdued than usual, the Hunter holstered the gun. He eyed his flung datapad, and Dourde slowly moved to retrieve it.

"A question?" It took a lot of nerve to even approach this topic, but the curiosity her new master had awoken in her wouldn't be abated until she'd asked.

" _Yes?_ " The Hunter fished a lemon drop from his pouch, letting her set the pad down in his lap.

"The...the girl." Dourde swallowed, steeling herself. "The one-"

" _I remember_." The Hunter studied his lemon drop very intently. Dourde shifted her weight.

"...why?"

Silence. Something worked behind his eyes, and Dourde hoped Angelis wasn't paying attention to the two of them, even if only for a minute.

" _Well._ " The Hunter cleared his throat. " _Ruining my big brother's fun is its own reward, isn't it?_ " The mirth in his tone never touched his eyes. " _I didn't do it for her_."

Dourde studied him. Whatever his other sins, his other foibles and failings and foulnesses...this was the first time he'd ever lied to her.

"Yes, sir." She wasn't going to call him on it. "I'll see to 07's resupply. Who knows? Maybe we will get the chance again."

" _See to it, General_."

He turned that lemon drop over between his fingers, contemplating it very seriously at least until Dourde was out of sight.

* * *

Gallant hesitated at the entrance to the staff room, leaning hard on his cane. The grip was nicked now: nicked and dented in ways it hadn't been before the battle. Chips and scars abounded in the oddest of places lately.

"I know this song." He chanced his way across the threshold carefully, eyes down. " _Try_ , Pink, 2012. It was a big one in my day...Major."

"Old man." Jane didn't muster much cheer, and didn't even try. She did set the music control down, though. "Where's everyone else?"

"Shen's fetching Tygan. He needs help to walk, after what happened." Gallant halted, leaving the table between them. "John's..."

"Grieving."

Gallant sighed. "Something like that."

Jane's brown eyes took him in very intently. "You cut my com."

Gallant swallowed. He shifted his weight from foot to cane. "I'm sorry."

"I..." She lowered her head, reaching up to flick at the corners of her eyes. "It doesn't matter anymore. None of it."

"Major..." Gallant sighed. "He's a hero. If I still had Stars of Terra to give..."

"It hurts. Not seeing him when I should, expecting him to be there..." Her face got a little more distant. "And I miss Mariah too."

Gallant looped around the table, joining her beside the viewscreen that simulated the clouds passing below. The night made them look very dark.

"Commander-"

"Please. Edward." Gallant looked around the room. "We're off-duty, aren't we?"

"Yes, sir. I mean, Edward." Jane did crack a little grin, but then it was gone. "I want to apologize. Give my condolences. For Moira."

Gallant's eyes stung. He inhaled sharply, reaching up to his breast pocket for just one moment - just long enough to touch the rim of her picture.

"Thank you, Major Kelly-"

"Jane."

"Jane, then." Gallant met her eyes. "Thank you. And my condolences for David."

"I feel responsible - like I should have done something about it all." Jane studied him for a moment. "Edward, is this what it was like in the old days?"

"...yes." Gallant leaned hard on his cane, thinking of Malin Larsen and entire squads interred in spirit, because there wasn't enough left of them to fill lunchboxes, let alone coffins. "Always on edge. Always itching for a fight, and praying it didn't come. Always watching the sky, and always knowing that the person you're sharing lunch with...the one you're hitting the rec room with..." He exhaled. "Might not come back."

Jane blinked slowly. "It's not much of a life."

"No. But it's the job." Gallant closed his eyes. "It's the _job_ , Jane: we are the world's only line of defense. Men like me sit here in our war rooms, blithely giving orders like we're moving pieces in some enormous chess-like game...while the people on the ground live and die. With mouse-clicks and snap decisions, we condemn fates, and it weighs hard. I can still see the faces of everyone who died in the old war because of my failures - let alone in this one."

"Me too. Those I know." Jane rubbed at her face. "Does it end?"

"No. At least someone in the barracks can go to sleep - at least a soldier knows they aren't on-duty until the klaxon rings. Commanders?" Gallant chuckled in the back of his throat. "The Commander is always on the bridge, Jane. That's the job: the eternal watch. _Vigilo Confido_."

Jane glanced back out the window. Visibly, she drew herself up. "You sound awfully nihilistic for eight in the evening."

"Maybe." Gallant wished he could quip, but that picture in his pocket was a heavy argument in favor of sobriety.

"We're here!" Shen appeared in the doorway, letting Tygan lean on her arm as he gamely made his way for the table on a long crutch. "Took us a while to manage the stairs out of the labs, but we're fine. ROV-R didn't have to do anything with the medical spray-"

"That's good-"

"I am in no condition to need emergency treatment." Tygan still let Gallant pull out his chair. "Thank you, Commander."

"It's selfish, really: I need you in the game so I can point Kelly at someone when she starts kicking my ass."

"And I will." Jane finally opened the cardboard box centered on the table. Shen frowned.

"Central?"

Gallant shook his head. Shen's eyes darkened, but she nodded.

Together, they fished the parts out. Jane poured drinks, while Gallant set up the board and organized the pieces. Shen shuffled the two decks of cards, and Tygan laboriously organized the money and deeds. A moment later, he dealt starting funds.

"Call 'em." Gallant eased himself into his chair. The ladies took their own seats.

"Thimble." Shen caught it when Gallant threw.

"Car." Tygan reached for it himself.

"I'll take the ship." Gallant plopped it down on Go. "Kelly?"

"I think-"

"If you take the goddamn dog, I'm busting your ass down to Corporal."

In he came, datapad tucked under his arm. His three-day stubble lingered, as did the bags under his eyes, but Bradford settled in his place at Gallant's right hand anyway. He brought his own glass and bottle, and they settled with him - but here he was.

"John." Gallant nodded. Bradford gave him a look...then sighed.

"Can't do anything but move forward."

"Isn't that the truth?" Shen paused. "Hang on. How did Free Parking work again?"

She knew: she damn well knew, Gallant was sure. But Bradford immediately jumped in to teach her, and there was a spark of engagement in his eyes that hadn't been there before. Gallant let them be.

He pulled the photograph from his breast pocket, and he held it with shaking fingers.

She'd aged, and not all for the best. She wasn't the lithe beauty he remembered when he'd seen her through Aileen's GREMLIN. How much of that had been Advent's torture, how much time...he couldn't say. All he knew was that, age lines or no, she was still the most beautiful woman he'd ever laid eyes on. She'd been...she'd been...

 _Thump_.

Gallant looked up. There in the center of the board lay another picture, one printed in the new, ramshackle style rather than the old professional one. It was a headshot with nothing but business to it: one that showed a scraggly-bearded Australian with a scarred cheek.

Jane studied Gallant for a long moment.

It was hard. It was harder than he could ever have imagined, harder than he wanted to face. But still, he held Moira out, and he laid her at the table center with David. His hand shook when he let go, and his eyes pricked and stung and burned...but he did it just the same.

Shen reached into her pocket, and she dropped a wallet-size of two little girls playing with electric trains. Her eyes misted over, and she wiped at them with a fingertip. A moment later, Tygan fished in his coat, and he laid a letter with the pictures: one signed _Matthew Kipler_. What colored his face was a lot darker than grief, but there was enough of that mixed in too: even if someone lived, you could still lose them forever.

Bradford dropped Mariah's datapad in the collection, and the lock screen of her beaming face the day she made it aboard shone up at them all.

No one said a word. No one reached for the dice. They all studied those they'd lost, with grief and anger and misery enough to cloud the room in a mire of despair. Gallant wished for one more moment with Moira - just enough to say the things he'd always wanted to.

 _Try_ echoed around the chamber, somber and serious to fit the mood.

Gallant was the first one to take his drink in hand. The others followed suit quickly.

Five glasses clinked together as one.

* * *

 **Author's Note 60: Ever Worried That It Might Be Ruined/And Does It Make You Wanna Cry?  
**

It's worth noting that I've been following themes with each season so far: Season One was thematic around Jane and Gallant, our two leads, coming into their own in spite of their mistakes and their traumas. Season Two's theme is, obviously, a lot darker: sometimes sacrifices have to be made in war. Season Three has a theme of its own that I've already settled on, one that plays off of both these previous ones - and Season Four has a few options on the table, even if I haven't made up my mind just yet. I won't need to for a while, so.

And with that, Season Two has come to an end. I hope it was as much of a rollercoaster to read as it was to write. As with Season One, there will be a multi-month break here: I do in fact have a job and other professional writing commitments to follow. In fact, I'm going to move to working on my next serial and my next full project both over this summer, and hopefully getting another full MS review within the next few days.(As of when this was **written** , so I'll almost certainly already have it by the time you read this, **IN THE FUTUUUUURE!** )

Even over the break, I encourage you to leave reviews or send me PMs. I do incorporate fan suggestions into my plot - Season Three features a major plot element from one of my first reviews - so fire away. And check out our TVtropes page and give it some love if that's what you do! You can also find your way to my serials through my profile page if you want to keep something of me in your life, you romantic. I also have a Twitter that I don't post on as much as I should.

This is strictly off the top of my head, and I will not be bound by it, but I roughly expect to begin initial work on S3 in mid-August, which would mean you should see it before October. Stay tuned!

Finally, I just want to say that if this story has inspired you to write anything of your own, **do it**. And let me know where to find it - I would love nothing better than hearing that I kickstarted someone else's imaginative processes.

Until next season, _Vigilo Confido_.

* * *

 _Where there is desire, there is gonna be a flame,_

 _Where there is a flame, someone's bound to get burned,_

 _But just because it burns doesn't mean you're gonna die,_

 _You gotta get up and try, try, try..._


	61. Ice

_Please remember to favorite and follow!_

* * *

 _"We were on fire; I slashed your tires,_

 _It's like we burned so bright we burned out..."_

 _~P!nk, Beautiful Trauma_

* * *

 **Chapter Sixty-one: Ice**

It began with a tremendous crash and roar of thunder, echoing in the shadows and raining from above.

" _Mor balaten!_ " The shieldbearer was the most alert of the initial patrol group, and he managed to point. That was all he accomplished: a magnetic rifle burst cut him down in a quick surge of golden projectiles, leaving a yellow slough of ooze to stain the harsh metal decking under his feet.

The two troopers under his command got their guns up, which was to their credit. One's head got clipped and obliterated by the roar of a shard gun, though, and the other screamed as high-powered rifle rounds perforated his body armor as if it were tissue paper, ventilating him in a flash.

Boots landed hard on the decking.

"Clear!" Julie Richardson led the way, rifle still warm. Behind her came Fatima Tariq, EXO suit hissing as she took her first experimental steps, shard gun up. In her wake landed Meysam Saleh, Shadowkeeper in hand and rifle slung over his shoulder. Without bothering to use the rappel lines, Janet Ross landed in a crouch, shielded by a bubble of violet psionic energy that coursed from her eyes and through her veins.

Two more pairs of boots landed at the end of the drop.

"Clear." Jane Kelly checked her sword.

" _Avenger_ , this is Central." John Bradford lowered his rifle to key comms. "We're in."

" _Copy, Central. Thermal isn't working too well through the shields, so we don't have eyes on what's ahead._ " Edward Gallant's voice broke up with a harsh laugh. " _Guess their engineers aren't all crap_."

"Give me a second." Julie breathed out, and Jane cased the room while the redhead did her thing. She produced her amp, hitting the trigger and using it to summon a whirling orb of psionic energy on her palm. It roared and whistled like high wind, and Julie's purple eyes seared in the instant it blew outward, sending tendrils scattering through the cracks in the walls. "Several Advent. Can't tell how they're equipped. A muton. Chryssalids. And..."

"And?" Janet gave her a sidelong look. "I don't like _and_."

"Something...else. Something large, something mighty." Julie bit her lip. "I'm not sure what to make of it."

" _Perfect. I love mysterious enemies we can't classify_."

" _Scanners are at full power_." Doctor Tygan hesitated for perhaps half a second. " _Energy signature directly ahead. There is no doubt in my mind that it is from the Warlock_."

"Then that's where we need to be." Bradford turned for the door: the one door out of what appeared to be a supply chamber festooned with shelves and boxes and drums. "Move out, people."

"One of those soldiers could have gotten a warning off. Not to mention potential perimeter alarms." Jane hurried up to his right hand, shard gun at the ready. "I doubt we still have the element of surprise."

"Good." Bradford's lips thinned. "Less time screwing around before we get to the bastard."

"Damn right." Jane fought not to grind her teeth. David...thoughts of David, and his choking death in the rain...

"Central." Fatima pushed past him and Jane alike. "Central, I think you and the Major shouldn't take point as we advance into the hub of enemy operations. You're not expendable."

"Then why am I here?" Bradford's lip curled.

" _Because you just about threatened to resign if I didn't send you_."

"No one asked you, Commander."

" _Why does everyone but me have a code name?_ " Jane's imagination was up to the task of picturing Gallant irritably thrusting his cane into the floor. " _Kelly's 'Fighting Irish', you're 'Central', Rogers is 'Moose'...to say nothing of Outrider, Shadow Man, and Volk._ _But not me: everyone's on a first-name basis with me_."

"Maybe you could try 'Swanson'."

"What?" Jane stared at Bradford. "I don't get it."

" _I'm more partial to Pewterschmidt_." Evidently Gallant did. Jane stewed. No one ever told her anything.

"Door." Fatima took up position on one side, and Julie on the other. "Breaching in five."

"Copy." Jane braced. Bradford's eyes narrowed.

"Three, two." Fatima paused, then hit the switch. Alien pneumatics whirred almost silently. "Go!"

On they went into the darkness.

* * *

He awoke.

" _I sense something._ " The Warlock's eyes pried open, and he frowned as he attempted to read the layers of psionic energy presenting themselves to him. " _A presence I haven't felt since_..."

They were here.

"Mighty Warlock?" his chief servant asked. The Warlock ignored him, slowly rising to his full height. His pets chittered and chattered, shoving at each other to be closest to him and the potential for food.

" _Such..._ " The Warlock spent a long moment in thought. " _Such bravery! Such steadfastness! To set foot in this temple? To dare contemplate striking down a child of the gods themselves?_ " He couldn't help it: his laughter echoed harshly around the chamber. " _Such arrogance, children! Your hubris will be your doom._

 _"And I will deliver it_."

* * *

"Flashbang!" Jane was no liar, and she proved it a moment later. It soared through the next set of doors before they'd even finished opening. Startled, the muton on the other side caught it in both hands.

"Go!" Bradford led the way in almost the same instant that the explosive detonated. The muton howled, clutching its eyes, and the scattered soldiers around the room too. Bradford's rifle chattered, and a shieldbearer went down, perforated from the waist up.

"He's mine!" Janet sprinted in, vaulting over a pod with an Adventer in the midst of the modification process held in stasis. With a psionic command, she activated her gauntlets, and twin blades of violet energy burst out, almost as long as she was tall. She spun, slashing with both at once.

"The Elders' power cannot protect you!" She carved the purifier in two, and its fuel tank exploded. Janet covered her face, drawing on her power to stand unaffected like a fortress. Blinding light and smoke washed out, scattering the remaining Adventers like bowling pins.

"Incoming!" Meysam sighted and fired, and a sectoid's head disintegrated as the gauss slug punched in one eye and out the back of its skull. Janet covered her face when the sectoid's partner, a red-coated officer, opened up on her at full auto.

"Power, protect me!" A shield burst up before her, absorbing every shot without a care. The officer paused...and then the shield appeared behind him, spitting his own fire out to rip him apart from behind. He wailed, crumpling in a heap.

"Show-off!" Julie's amp whined, and she hurled a lance of psionic energy that shredded three Adventers at once and flung the muton off its feet. "Show me real psi-attacks!"

"If you insist, then I will!" Janet ducked as a soldier fired a burst from a firing slit in the wall high above. "Keep your gun ready!"

"Why?" Julie covered her head. "I'll fry his mind–"

Janet drew on her power again. It was impulse she sought, not plan: the idea of inversion, rather than some carefully-arranged strategy. Her power heard the impulse, and in a flash it converted it to reality.

Literally: a flash of purple light and smoke filled the room...and Janet leaned against the wall by the firing slit, shaking her head dazedly to regain her bearings.

"Hot damn!" Julie's rifle roared, and the soldier with whose position Janet had inverted wailed piteously. "I could have taken him just fine."

"You are an amateur in the ways of the Gift. I am a professional." Janet dropped back to the main floor, giving her XCOM opposite number her best unreadable stare. "You have much to learn."

"Sure, whatever."

"Room clear." Jane paused to kick the skull of a twitching shieldbearer hard enough it cracked. "Fatima?"

"Cell block." She pursed her lips, reading the alien letters coating the sign on the next door. "Cell block, then something called the Ascension Chamber."

"Sounds serious. That's the way to go." Jane ejected her spent cartridges and slid a new clip into place. "Everyone check mags and prepare to breach."

"Yes, ma'am." Meysam drew the Shadowkeeper. " _Avenger_ , how are we looking?"

* * *

"Some kind of hornet's nest, I'll tell you that." Edward Gallant examined the holodisplay thoughtfully. "Definitely a lot of activity in the next room. I can't give you details, but we're picking up radio signals strong enough to penetrate the shielding."

" _They're calling for help. Contacting external bases_."

"Most likely. They'll be preparing a wave of reinforcement troops. Your best bet is to move quickly enough you can complete your primary objectives before they hit." Gallant glanced down from his dais. "Tygan, readings?"

"Nothing concrete. However, the energy signature is directly ahead. This cell block would be the last major obstacle in the way."

"You copy, John?" Gallant watched his XO's tracker. "Whatever's going on at your twelve o' clock, punch through that and you're in his knicker drawer."

" _What American says knicker?_ "

"Shut up, Irish. You're a bad influence on me." Gallant paused to again bemoan the unfairness of his life. "Unbelievable. Hell, the robots have codenames."

"I'm sure Junior is very proud of it." Lily Shen chuckled in the back of her throat. "You're taking this a bit personally."

"Damn right I am. Everyone else has one."

"I don't."

"Well, you're a noncombatant, so shut up." Gallant deliberately turned his back when she stuck her tongue out. Someone snickered, and Gallant pointed his cane without looking. "Back to work, you. Laughing at your CO is a Very Bad Thing."

"Like your face." Lily worked on her tablet for a minute. "I'm working to jam their transmissions, but no promises. Things will work better if you move faster."

" _We're in position to breach_." Jane paused. " _Anything more concrete you can give us?_ "

"I'm not really clairvoyant." Gallant tasted the word for a minute. "Nah. Too supervillain."

* * *

" _You have come far, little humans. You are to be commended._ " The Warlock paced in his sanctum, while his soldiers huddled in the corner, checking their weapons. " _Boldly pushing forward into the unknown! Brave as you venture into the dark_."

His pets shrieked, clawing at the floor. Saliva fell in torrents, dripping over fangs and claws. The Warlock idly flicked a switch, and the remains of a captive he had no further need for fell into the throng.

" _If only you knew the truth of this place..._ " He chuckled deep in his throat as his pets tore into the body, shoving and biting each other in their mad rush to claim what they could. " _Oh, humans! You would flee back to the shadows from whence you were spawned._ "

"Mighty Warlock, they're preparing to breach the Cell Block."

" _Are they?_ " He curled his lip. " _Those poor fools. It will do them no good. The Elders' reach is eternal, their will permeating all around us. I wonder if our guests feel the gods' own hand closing in around them, even now?_ "

* * *

Bradford was first.

"You idiot!" Jane hurried in his wake as the XO slammed through the automatic door with rifle upraised. It roared in almost the same beat as his footfalls, and she ducked when some quick-thinking Adventer managed to fire from the hip, nearly putting a shot through the brim of her ball cap. "Sir!"

"Grenade!" And he threw one, and it snapped onto the chest of one of the two MECs poised at the end of the room. Before the white one or the red one could unleash rockets, the explosive detonated, sending an EMP pulse scourging out to freeze both of their electronics.

"For the Templars!" Janet bounded in, purple power trailing her every step. Jane lost track of her in a hurry, but there was an awful lot of Advent screaming so that was fine.

"Up! Go up!" Julie nearly shoved Meysam toward a ladder, one that took him over the closed cells lining the central walkway. There was an automated turret up top, but Maysam unloaded a vicious string of pistol shots that punched through its armor and brewed the whole thing up in a cloud of ruined electronics. Parts flew, raining over the red and black walls and smashing down on the Advent soldiers and priests scrambling for cover.

And over...

"What in God's name?" It wasn't a complete sentence, but it was.

It was also Jane's last sentence, complete or otherwise, before Hell unleashed.

A blue blur shot across the cell block, borne on trails of fire. Something green glowed in its hands, and Jane flung herself flat. Whatever it was, it whooshed over her head as fast as a hunter UFO, and Jane scrambled back to her feet a heartbeat before it came back around and drove into the metal where she'd lain. Not only did the head punch through alloys like they were tissue paper, that green glow melted things to slag for eight inches in all directions.

"Fuck!" Jane brought her gun up and hit the trigger, sighting in on its ornate and gilded head. It just...it just moved so fast, though! Her shot clipped it, denting that helmet, but it was still in action, heedless of flying yellow blood as it shrieked hate and loathing. "Fuck! Fuck! _Fuck!_ " Jane dropped her shard gun and drew her sword in the nick of time, parrying a wave of high and low strikes from some kind of...plasma spear. "What the fuck is it?"

"Archon!" That made no sense, but then Janet vaulted from above, driving her psi-blades into its shoulders. She hung from its back while it thrashed, the jets fixed...fixed _into its back_ roaring and shooting waves of golden exhaust.

"Ross!" Jane scrambled for her gun as the...archon rocketed up to the ceiling, slamming Janet into it spine-first. Purple power shielded her, but cracks shot over both her orb and the ceiling. Dust and rock fell.

"Whoa!" Janet let go and tumbled in a ball as _missiles_ ripped out from the archon's back, bursting into smaller warheads in midair...which burst into smaller ones...

"Fucking take cover!" Jane dove behind a wall, grabbing Julie in passing. She covered the redhead with her body as the streaks of fire and death came down–

 _Boom! Boom!_ That didn't do it justice. It was fifteen explosions at once, rippling and melting together like the alloy plate of the floor, send flying in flechette swarms that cut down Advent units as easily as they rent Jane's exposed back and arms. She cried out as shards drove into the weak points in her Spider Suit. Bradford covered his head, shards pinging off the plate of the predator armor while heat wafted around the room.

"Bitch!" Meysam fired a second later, and the archon howled, clutching its midsection. It let out a rippling, almost mechanical roar, shaking its fist in fury.

Meysam's face went white when the beast shot his way, screaming and holding its spear up high.

"Get out of there!" Fatima fired, and her shot blew one of its repulsors off. The archon hit the top of the cell blocks hard, skidding in a spray of sparks as it fought to regain its balance. It jammed its spear into the ground, prying itself up and lunging with its free hand.

"Blow it!" The Serpent Suit's grapple went off, and Meysam leapt into open air, swinging down to ground level. Bradford caught him around the waist, hustling him behind cover as the remaining Advent soldiers fired in volley like redcoats of old.

"Catch!" Fatima hurled a plasma grenade, and the archon roared its defiance.

 _Ka-boom!_

"What the hell!" Jane opened fire when the archon emerged from the expanding green blast with smoke trailing from its engines, coughing and staggering in the air...but still alive, and coming at Fatima this time. It leveled its spear, unleashing blasts of green plasma energy that scorched the ground all around her. Fortunately, whether it was the damage or what, it couldn't shoot for shit: she ducked behind a low wall and that was that.

"Fuck you!" Jane's next shot went right into its chest, and the thing staggered. She worked the pump, sighting in again before she realized she was dry–

 _Blam!_

It wailed, almost piteously. It clutched at its head as purple seared up all around it, rising from the floor like the hands of death. It grabbed so hard its talons punched through its helmet, and its eyes burst with purple light and yellow goo.

It crumpled, engines still feebly pushing the body around.

"For the record, I should have covered you from the missiles." Julie flicked a scarlet strand out of her eye. "I have Predator armor, Irish."

"Yeah, well, Sylvie would have killed me." Jane scrambled to reload. "Back at it, then."

* * *

" _Is it not the Elders who are the true saviors of your race? They who fight to protect an entire universe?_ " The Warlock watched in his mind's eye as his minions did battle with XCOM. His lip curled.

He'd expected better from the so-called elite.

" _Here you stand regardless._ " He couldn't bring himself to chuckle, not now. Something much darker took hold of him, something that left him to seize the rail by his Sarcophagus in both hands. It bent under his grip. " _Willing to die to retain your ignorance...how human of you. To think I once considered myself a part of your race..._ " He toyed with the concept. " _You seem so petty. So tiny_. _I have evolved into something greater, something you can only envy._ "

"Mighty Warlock?" His lieutenant quailed when his gaze turned. Having approached, though, he had no choice but to continue. "Might we contact your inferior siblings? Weaker they are, certainly, but just to be safe..."

" _There is no potential for threat from this enemy._ " Unamused, the Warlock ignored his lieutenant from then on, to his immense relief. " _Even now, the Elders' love of humanity shines through. They counsel mercy. They plead with me to spare you pain. I am a merciful soul, and more than that, a pious servant of the Elders_." Now he could muster that laugh: cold enough even his priests shivered. " _I will let you die swiftly today_." He turned to his lieutenant.

" _Unleash the Alpha_."

* * *

"Clear." Bradford bashed the last Advent skull in with his rifle butt. "That was fun."

"Was it?" Jane warily emerged from cover. "Jesus." She kicked the archon's corpse, half-expecting it to seize her ankle and soar up to ten thousand feet straight through the piled earth and rock above. "Jesus Christ."

" _They look like floaters_." Gallant made a retching noise in the back of his throat.

"Yeah." Bradford kicked the carcass too. "The aliens cleaned up the design a little."

" _They're still no better than the monsters my father dealt with_." Lily made the same noise.

 _Crash!_

"Oh, come on!" That was as far as Jane got before a taloned hand seized her by the throat. Rockets blazed, lifting her up to the ceiling like Janet. She grabbed at the fingers, fighting to keep those claws from punching into her throat.

This archon was red, not blue. Its eyes blazed with fury and scorn.

"Shit!" Jane shrieked when it threw, preceding its assault with a wave of missiles launched in a devastatingly wide spread. Below, her teammates scattered, frantically covering each other as best they could while death rained.

" _Jane!_ " Gallant cried.

She had no coherent response. Everything vanished when she hit the far wall on her shoulder. The wall shattered...as did some other things.

"Ah!" Jane tumbled to the ground, clutching her savaged arm. Before she'd even finished sliding over the green, webbed floor, she tried to move it...and it disobeyed, lying limply by her side.

"Shit. Shit. It's not broken, is it?" Jane spotted her cap lying a few feet away. Thankful for the strap that kept her gun in place, she reached for it left-handed.

Chittering screams. The clacking of talons on the floor.

Chryssalids all around her.

"... _shit_."

* * *

 **Author's Note 61: Third Time's The Charm**

Archons can go to hell. 'nuff said.

I don't know if any of you noticed, but I'm back! I come bearing Season Three, full of asskickery and bullshit. Are you ready for it? Hell no, you're not. I'm not either, but I'm here anyway. You are too, or you wouldn't be reading this.

This might take longer than I want to go up. I've wound up getting a new job that's _extremely_ time-intensive at the moment, not to mention I've started a "George Lucas Special Edition" rewrite of my web serials with the help of that editor contact I've mentioned in the past. Wish me luck on that front, and if you're curious, there's a link to check 'em out through my profile. Not to mention, Florence is coming to fuck my shit up, though at the moment it looks like the track will veer south of VA and I'll basically just get rain and wind for a bit. If you're in the danger zone, stay safe!

Anywho, hope life's been treating you fairly lately. Keep your eyes on this spot!

Until next time, _Vigilo Confido_.


	62. Ascension

_Please remember to favorite and follow!_

* * *

 _"A constellation of tears on your_

 _Lashes_

 _Burn everything you love then burn the_

 _Ashes"_

 _~Fall Out Boy, "Light 'Em Up(My Songs Know What You Did In The Dark)_

* * *

 **Chapter Sixty-two: Ascension**

" _Only when you fall, XCOM, will your race be saved_." The Warlock watched as the Archon King tore into his enemies...and he watched the poor unfortunate soul thrown into the midst of his pets and their paddock. " _This world will be mine, and all its people as well. All of it left to me and my tender mercies..._ "

The battle raged in earnest. The Warlock waited, clutching his railing and contemplating the future and all its glories.

The future and all its horrors.

" _Yet for any of us to survive, humanity must submit! Now! Before the true enemy appears!_ " None of it made sense. Humanity was a small, pathetic breed incapable of higher reasoning...or any reasoning, any at all. What matter the suffering of a few when compared to the survival of the universe? " _You delay your own salvation! Surrender to me before it is too late!_ "

They wouldn't. They were fools, absorbed in their own damnation.

" _And there is only one cure for that_." The Warlock crossed his arms, enraptured in the battle raging behind his eyes. " _Come, then, soldiers of the gods: burn the heretics for the salvation of us all_."

* * *

"Jesus. What the hell is that?" Edward Gallant clutched his cane, leaning on it a bit harder than he had before the Battle of the _Avenger_. "It acts like one of Moira's."

"Doctor Vahlen's data implied there were three subjects. We've encountered two." Tygan pursed his lips, absently rubbing at his chest where his mag-round wounds were still healing. "I believe this is Subject Alpha."

" _She didn't have to upgrade their equipment!_ " Bradford's voice cut off after a moment. Gallant ground his cane into the deck.

"Kill it!" Easier ordered than done. He studied the thing's erratic flight path. "You've got to lock it down before it brings reinforcements. And..." His eyes flicked over to the next room. "Jesus."

"Jane needs backup." Lily swallowed. "She's toast if we leave her."

"The team can't take the King if we split up." Tygan's eyes were hollow. "Now what?"

Gallant let out a low breath. "I guess that's my job to figure out, Doctor."

* * *

"For the Templars! For Geist!" Janet sprang from overhead, psi-blades out as she came down atop the Archon King. She slashed it wildly, spraying yellow blood as she beat through its heavy armor plate.

"No!" She covered herself with her vibrant purple shield as it swung high. Its spear reverberated off her defense–

Its hand seized her ankle.

Janet screamed as the Archon shot into the air, swinging her around in circles. It reached the apex of its climb, releasing her like a throwing disc. She curled up, bracing for impact–

"Gotcha!"

"Meysam?" She clung to him as he swung by on his grapple, snatching her from the air and bringing her down on ground level. Janet opened up with her autopistol at the same time as the Shadowkeeper roared, and the Archon King wove through the display in a mad air show of evasive action, avoiding nearly every shot and snarling at the ones that stung it anyway.

"Heads down!" Fatima extended her arm. Flame and smoke shot from her wrist, racing up into the center of the firestorm.

The King caught her rocket in one hand. It pulled its arm back, as if to throw the warhead at Janet and Meysam.

It exploded, and the King's hand went with it.

"Yes! Like that! Again!" Meysam's pistol went dry, so he switched to his rifle, working the bolt as fast as he could and spitting gauss projectiles up toward the ceiling hard enough they punched holes several feet deep. Was it _deep_ if the hole was going up? Janet didn't know.

"Suffer!" She extended her hands, and lightning shot from her fingertips. Correcting itself with the power of her thoughts, it arced into the King, smiting its engines and its eyes, burrowing into armor plate and both denting it and melting it to slag. The alien roared and howled, holding its staff over its head. Meysam and Fatima both put shots into it while it cowered.

"Cover! Now!" Janet followed her own warning as missiles burst from its shoulders, splitting and splitting a dozen times into hundreds of micro-warheads, bearing down in a rocket swarm from overhead. "Overhead cover!"

"Shit!" Fatima hit the access switch on a cell and ducked inside. Janet threw herself under a low bench, and Meysam dove back through the door into the previous room, hands over his head–

The world came apart as artillery crashed down on all sides, with the thunder and fury of an earthquake and a wildfire. Janet raised a shield around herself, wincing with every blast that shook the earth beneath her. The bench cracked, and chunks rained over her legs. She yelped when a red-hot slice of shapnel cut a line over her ankle, right through her armored boot.

One slammed directly into the bench, and it shattered. Janet screamed, covering her head and chest with violet power while Hell spat its contents all over her. If hate could be condensed into a rocket barrage, this was it.

And then it wasn't, because the devastation was over.

"Oh, shi–" Janet rolled left, barely escaping the radius as the King came down from overhead with spear in hand, driving it halfway to the hilt in the deck where her neck had been. The exploding blast of heat scorched her face and warmed the metal underneath her to almost red-hot levels. Still on her back, Janet slashed left-handed, scoring the beast's underside right through a repulsor. It howled when the device imploded, sticking its fragments all in the King's flesh.

It left the spear behind, and it seized Janet by the throat. Its jets roared, and it pressed down with everything it had, applying its weight times its acceleration to her windpipe. Her air supply vanished, and Janet pried at the grip with all her strength. She couldn't...she couldn't...

She just couldn't...

"Fuck you!" Fatima slashed across its back with her arc blade, and electricity shot over its body. Janet yelped when it transferred to her–but it only served to jolt her back awake when the King recoiled. On instinct more than anything else, Janet produced her twin blades, driving them up to her wrists in the beast's chest.

It lifted off again. Janet released her blades before she made it off the ground, scrambling with Fatima for cover before the King could reclaim its spear and open up with plasma fire from range.

Its roar nearly shook the ceiling.

* * *

" _And still, you stand defiant._ " The Warlock ground his teeth. " _After we saved your world from its pathetic internecine squabbles, holding it together for years! Would that the Elders had no need for your race..._ "

He slammed his fist down hard on the rail. " _I would have ended this farce long ago!_ "

His guards clustered around the portal deck, checking their weapons. His priests examined their amps, his soldiers their guns...his pets still waited, far too imbecilic to recognize what was coming. The Warlock reached back to brush the Disruptor where it hung on his back.

" _Only now, however, have you given us hope. The Elders cannot ignore this provocation...this blasphemy._ _You have forced their hand, and soon this world will be theirs_." He beamed. " _This world shall be_ mine _._ "

* * *

Jane had one second to suck in breath.

Then the chryssalids charged, and she screamed.

 _Blam!_ One-handed, she fired, propping her gun up on a drum of something that smelled like rotten meat. The blast eviscerated one of the creatures, but on came the rest. Unable to work the pump with one arm, Jane grabbed for her sword.

"Back!" She slashed, slicing one's mandible off. It retreated, but three more took its place. "Back, you animals! Back!"

On they came. Their talons clicked on the floor in a mad rush, their jaws snapped inches from her face, and their spittle sprayed wildly like light rain. Jane scrambled to back up, and she slipped in a puddle of saliva. She landed hard on her rear.

Her sword slipped from her grip.

For all the good it wouldn't do, she covered her face when the chryssalids lunged. She didn't think anyone would judge her for shrieking.

 _Bwoom!_

It was the...just the oddest sound, somewhere between a boom and a bass thump. Jane recoiled further.

Her back hit something solid.

"Steady up, Irish!" It was foggy and distorted, as if coming through a pane of glass. Jane's eyes snapped open.

"What the..." She reached out to touch the purple cone encasing her. It rippled when her fingers brushed against it, and it felt...alive. It fizzed with static electricity, and it moved gently under her touch like gel.

Then her wonder abated when the chryssalids set to banging on it with teeth and talons, and Jane shrieked again, covering her head in case the dome failed.

"Not on my watch!" Bradford's rifle roared, and heavy slugs ripped through the chryssalid swarm. Julie's mag-rifle joined in, shredding those Bradford missed. Jane froze.

"Oh, hell." She tested her shoulder. "Dislocated. Not broken." She swallowed, then grabbed her shard gun. "Sooner you start, Jane, the sooner it's done with." She bit down hard on the gun strap.

And punched herself on the shoulder. Hard.

The world went red. Jane collapsed on her back, shrieking through the impromptu bit, thrashing on the ground and kicking at the barrier entirely without meaning to. There was nothing but agony as her joint snapped back into position with a minimum of gentleness, and all she could do was move to try and get it out any way she could. Her throat went raw after seconds, but she didn't care. It didn't hurt, not like...not like...

"Oh...oh, fuck..." She came down from the high slowly, tears clouding her vision. She clutched her aching, maligned shoulder, but when she plucked the strap from her mouth, she used that hand and it responded just fine. "Fucking hell, hurts like a bitch..." She spat, rubbing her throat and wishing for some water. "God, I hate having to do that."

The barrier came apart as Julie let out a wordless yelp. Jane flinched, grabbing for her sword as a chryssalid with dripping bullet wounds spotted her. Its eight evil eyes flashed with malice, and it lunged, trampling broken corpses and what looked like oversized stuffed lobsters as it came for her with hands spread wide.

"Not today!" Heedless of her abused arm, Jane sprang to her feet. She sidestepped and slashed, and one of the chryssalid's arms flew well ahead of it. The beast caught it in its mouth, and it crunched happily...until Jane's backswing took one of its legs off at the hip.

"That's right!" She battered at its head as it collapsed, unable to keep balance. It thrashed, trying to right itself, while she cut through its skull in three places, spraying yellow blood and gray brain matter. "Die, die, _die you bitch!_ "

The chryssalid caught her sword between its jaws next, wrenching hard. Jane couldn't keep her grip, but that was fine. She seized the severed leg in both hands, and before the alien could spit out her blade and lunge, she swung the curved protrusion of bone and carapace like a baseball bat, driving the tip right in the midst of its eye collection.

 _Crunch!_

"Fuck you." Jane leaned down to relcaim her sword, leaving the still-twitching and biting carcass nailed to the wall by the leg rammed through its head. She paused to reload her shard gun, then it was back to the fight without a second look.

The body kept twitching for thirty minutes.

* * *

"Nice job, Menace. Kelly, how's the arm?"

" _It's banged up, but I'm alive_." She hesitated. " _Thanks for sending backup, sir_."

"Couldn't let you die. Who on this ship would be brave enough to tell me to screw myself?" Gallant shrugged, even though she couldn't see it. "You fulfill a necessary function. Now quit jawing and keep fulfilling it, or I'll leave you next time."

" _All words. You're soft under that hard shell of jackass, Commander_."

"Lies. Lies and slander." Gallant tuned her out. "Give me a sitrep, Ross."

" _I'm busy!_ " She paused to scream something about dishonor and cows. " _This thing just won't die!_ "

"Definitely Doctor Vahlen's." Lily bit her lip. "Flashbangs should disorient it. Frost bombs?"

"David had the last of our supply." Gallant rapped his cane on the floor, watching Bradford, Jane, and Julie tear into the chryssalid swarm while the others battled the Archon King. "...hang on. I've got an idea."

"Is it a good one, sir?"

"No." Gallant frowned. "I mean, yes. Well..." He rocked his head back and forth. "Fifty-fifty?"

* * *

"Go right!" Fatima Tariq tossed her sword, and Janet caught it in midair. Then the Ranger deleted the Templar from her world, rolling away while Alpha swung wide, nearly decapitating her. Only the increased speed of her EXO suit was enough to keep her head on her shoulders.

 _What would Chilong do?_

"Shut up!" Fatima wove under that spear as the King took another swing, and she seized it from behind. It flailed when she sprang backward, bending over until she slammed its head into the floor in the same instant as its jets roared. Its own acceleration sent it ripping up a trough through the alloy paneling, and Fatima sprang back to her feet as soon as she was clear.

Something stung on her face. The exhaust must have burned her. It didn't matter.

"Tisiphone, move!" That was Meysam, pointing at Alpha as it shot back into the air, roaring furious challenge. She hesitated, but not for long.

"I hope you've got a plan!" She grabbed her shard gun, firing blind over her shoulder and wishing for her Archangel Armor. If she could meet the beast in the air...

"Get over here!" Meysam wasn't pointing...but it was only when his grapple went off that Fatima realized that.

"Yes!" She took more careful aim as the line caught Alpha by the chest, sinking into his flesh. Meysam seized the nearest column with his other hand, screaming as the jets roared. Alpha howled too, as if drowning the Saudi's voice out was enough to break the line.

"By the power of the Earth!" Janet raised a hand, and a pillar of purple light smote down from above, hitting like a piledriver. It slammed the King all the way down to ground level, and Janet drove Fatima's sword into it like a nail.

"Yes!" Never one to let a cheap trick go to waste, Fatima blasted it, working the pump as fast as she could. Shard guns weren't as quick on the reload as a scatter laser, but they had a lot more punch.

Missiles. They burst from the King on all sides, spinning through the air and slamming into the walls and ceiling as they tried to complete their arc for the ground. Rock and dust fell, and Fatima couldn't help but scream when a boulder the size of a berserker came down three feet away. She scrambled for cover, still firing at the Archon's prone form.

" _Watch it!_ " Gallant cried, as the alien's engines roared. It pulled and pulled, but Fatima's sword wouldn't move.

In a spray of yellow, the King shot upward, pushing itself straight through the sword from tip to hilt. It clutched its chest, howling in either agony or rage.

Its staff glowed purple.

"It's getting away!" Bradford burst back in from the green room, opening up on full auto. "Don't let it escape!"

"Are you stupid?" But Janet pulled out her autopistol and sent mag-rounds racing at the erratic, twitching scarlet shape in the air. "If it wants to leave–"

"Damn it!" Bradford swore a lot more colorfully when the King wove under the shots and straight into the expanding purple vortex exploding behind it. The light coalesced and condensed...and then winked out very suddenly. "It's gone!"

"Oh, thank heaven. It's gone." Meysam slumped, massaging his arm. "It's gone..."

"Jane?" Fatima glanced back at the hole beside the door.

"I'm alive." She appeared, dripping with chryssalid blood. "Barely."

"Good." Bradford paused to reload, and Fatima did the same.

"There's something in here." Jane twitched her head. "Julie's checking it out."

"Really?" Fatima reclaimed her sword, then hurried that way. Janet, Meysam, and Bradford all followed.

"It's green." Fatima examined the room, from webbed, hexagonal floor and wall tiles to the little shattered pen over to the side, littered with chryssalid bodies. "It feels...underwater."

"Yeah. The lights." Meysam glanced up at them. "They move. Everything shimmers."

"It's creepy."

"What about that?" Janet glanced at the stairs: the stairs leading to a glowing platform under the eyes of a looming elder statue. "Why does it glow?"

"I don't know." Bradford keyed his com. "Doctor?"

" _It's radiating a strong energy signature, very similar to the readings we've seen from codices and the Rulers in the field, to say nothing of the Chosen themselves_." Tygan paused, as if running some numbers. " _I believe this is an alien transport device of some kind_."

"Understood. Looks like we found our way out of here." Bradford started up the stairs.

"Um...Central?"

* * *

Jane strode through the remnants of the chryssalids as if in a dream, eyes vacant. She didn't bother listening to Bradford's blunt query.

She just pointed.

"What in..." The last two words. Bradford's voice echoed in the chamber, ringing gently from the far corners like his heavy footfalls. He reached Jane's shoulder...and continued, hardly seeming to notice the still-twitching chryssalid body parts scattered ankle-deep on all sides, or the puddles of venom and saliva he stepped in.

Silence. Jane thought Julie muttered something, but whatever it was, it was well under her breath. No one else spoke as Bradford ground to a halt in the remains of the chryssalid pen, gun hanging limply from its strap.

He knelt, moving icily and stiffly, as if suddenly far older than even his advanced years. He reached out, gently brushing a spastic severed bug leg off of the half-devoured corpse whose face it covered.

"...Mariah."

Were the other corpses Zhang and David? Jane nearly came apart even at the thought. They were all rent up by chryssalid claws and teeth, with great pockmarks and craters in their skin from where adolescent chryssalid spawn had burst out.

More silence. Bradford touched his daughter's torn and lifeless face.

" _John?_ " Something was different about Gallant's voice. Jane hadn't heard him like this since...since...

No. She'd never heard him like this. This was different on every level. It was cold: ice cold.

"Right." Bradford rose, just as arthritically as he'd descended. He sounded just the same as the Commander.

No, it wasn't cold. Jane put that together as her own feelings matured. It wasn't cold because she wasn't cold, not thinking about Mariah and David and Zhang and all that had happened to them.

It burned so hot it was far past anger.

"Let's go." Bradford started up the stairs for the transport pad, and his stiffness faded a little more with every step. "That _thing_ dies today. Whatever it takes."

* * *

" _How much longer must I endure this sacrilege?_ " The Warlock stood at the base of his Sarcophagus, lip curled. " _Your feet are unworthy to tread the holy ground of this sanctum. I have seen the future, and you have no part to play in it._ "

"Mighty Warlock–"

" _Silence, cur._ " He inhaled. " _Is it peace you want, XCOM? I shall gladly oblige. Come to me, and let us put an end to this._ "

* * *

 **Author's Note 62: Happy Anniversary!**

One year ago to the day, I dropped Chapter One of Vigilo Confido. I had about eight chapters on my hard drive at the time, and no real idea of whether I was going to settle into a regular update schedule and, if so, how regular it would be. Thanks to your support, we've taken off and I've had the motivation to smash this thing out on a grand scale. Twice a week means I have to write at least 2 chapters every week, and each one is at least 3K words.

So, consider this a big thank-you present for everyone who enjoys VC. I am not going to change the regular update schedule, but I couldn't let the first anniversary go unmarked.

The Archon King is the single worst Ruler. I hate it with a passion, because it takes everything I hate about archons, combines it with everything I hate about Rulers, and mixes in some OP shenanigans on top of all that. Fuck the Archon King in particular. Repeaters, man: repeaters and the Bolt Caster. Only way to fly.

EDIT: Apparently I'm remembering the day I started uploading materials and decided to get serious. Whatever...are you going to complain about an extra chapter? :-P

Until next time, _Vigilo Confido_.


	63. Retribution

_Please remember to favorite and follow!_

* * *

 _"How it feels to be the broken;_

 _You took a piece, now I'm biting back!"_

 _~Skillet, Back From The Dead_

* * *

 **Chapter Sixty-three: Retribution**

Purple light whirled on all sides, and Julie's stomach turned. Shapes appeared in the aurora laid out around her: shapes that passed too quickly to make any sense. They spun in and out...orbs and barriers, places and ideas. Thoughts spun into her head, searing her sixth sense like wildfire, then vanishing before she could grab them.

Something hung tantalizingly close. If she could just stretch her mind a little more, there it would be, and she could–

 _Thud!_

"Shit!" Julie hit the ground hard, and her knees buckled. Her stomach less turned and more flipped, and she very nearly vomited on the alien-patterned purple floor beneath her. She clenched her fists, leaning on them for support and fighting her whirling insides.

"You alright, Red?" Jane touched her shoulder. Julie raised a hand, swallowing on a dry throat.

"Yeah. Yeah, that was just...the pictures. The thoughts..."

"What thoughts?" Jane frowned. "It wasn't fun, but it was a transporter."

"Uh..."

"You are not insane." Janet was on her hands and knees too, and she wiped at the corner of her mouth, almost heedless of how she pushed off from the puddle of her own vomit to rise. "I saw it too."

"On your feet. Now." Bradford caught Julie under the arm, and she yelped when he nearly deposited her at his side. "Look."

"Holy..." Julie's eyes widened. "It's huge. I think it's half the size of the _Avenger_ '."

"It's so purple." Fatima made a retching noise. "Where is the light even coming from?"

"And that...thing." Jane pointed, and Julie swallowed. "It's like...it's a three-story coffin hanging in suspension. Some kind of obelisk."

"Commander?" Bradford paused, then keyed his comm again. "Commander Gallant, sir?"

"Hey, cripple, where'd you hobble off to?" Jane kicked at the floor a moment later. "Shit. He's not screaming at me. We've lost our link."

"Call your CO anything like that again, and you answer to me, Kelly." Bradford raised his rifle, examining the surroundings. "Where the hell is that bastard?"

" _Oh, if only you knew the true power in my hands_."

"Shit!" Julie scrambled to bring her gun up as violet energy blew outward from the far end of the chamber. From the shadows they emerged: a motley collection of Advent forms, and the hulking shapes of chittering chryssalids at the flanks.

And a looming silhouette behind them.

" _You would fall to your knees before me!_ " The Warlock bared his enormous teeth, white hair flying off as wind radiated wildly from him.

"I doubt that, bitch." Julie reached for her amp. "I'm not _that_ easy."

" _Pity_." That must have gone right over his balding evil head. The Warlock extended a hand, psionic power glowing on his fingertips. " _Let us begin, then!_ "

* * *

"John?" Gallant waited a moment, glaring while Lily banged on her terminal with a wrench. She gave him a thumbs up when something flashed orange, and he keyed his comm again. "John?"

" _There you are, sir!_ "

"Yeah, comms went to shit when you jumped in the purple nurple roller coaster. Are you even still on Earth?"

" _Kelly owes you an apology_." The holodisplay fizzed, but then it started to come back in pieces.

"For what?" Gallant drove his cane into the floor. "Major?"

" _Nothing, sir. Bad timing. Tell you later_."

" _I'm reading a concentration of hostiles shielding the Warlock from Menace_." Julian's face appeared in the corner of the holodisplay, and red icons popped up over the projected room. " _I'm also detecting significant power surge readings_."

"Perfect." Gallant reached up to touch the photograph still thrust in his breast pocket. "Weapons free, Menace."

"Whoa!" Lily jumped when all six XCOM operative's representations lunged into action at once. Grenades flew, bursting in explosions of plasma and distilled viper poison, and the Advent guards scattered. There was no mistaking the Kickass Assault Rifle of Death, even in holo-form, and Gallant beamed when Bradford opened up on the scattering soldiers, ripping them up with slugs heavy enough to bring down a bull rhino on crack.

"Watch out!" Gallant slammed his hand on the railing, eyes fixed on the surging bugs. "Kelly, Ross, take the right side!"

" _Sir!_ " It wasn't a protest though, and Jane sprang past Bradford and Meysam's firebase, shard gun blazing as she cut a chryssalid in half. Janet sprang up too, psi-blades out, shrieking Templar war cries and hymns and advertising jingles while she broke everything.

" _Fuck!_ "

"That son of a bitch." Gallant could respect someone who was doing the same job he was, as long as that person wasn't the Warlock. As things stood, he glared at the abnormally-tall icon on the display with the kind of loathing he normally reserved for Angelis, the President of the United States, or unskippable horror movie ads on YouTube. "Richardson, talk to me."

"Her vitals are erratic. The Warlock hit her with some kind of psionic strike." Tygan ran numbers quickly, and Gallant didn't like the look in his eyes. "She's in a daze. It looks like she's falling asleep."

"Tisiphone, you copy? Cover Julie and wake her up."

"Commander!" Lily stiffened. "We're picking up another reading."

"Oh, good. More fun." Gallant almost couldn't bear to look. "What now?"

"Sir, it's–"

A psi-portal burst open in the middle of the room. Gallant's eyes widened as the first thing to emerge was a tremendous red head, saliva spraying as it parted its jaws and roared a challenge to any unwise enough to approach it. The sinewy arms and legs were next, and the lumbering torso...

"Oh, fuck. Beta again." He swallowed as the Berserker Queen punched the ground, sending cracks shooting out for a dozen yards in all direction. She beat her chest, howling even louder in a spray of yellow breath mist. "This...could be diffic–"

Gallant froze. His eyes locked on the golden Advent soldier, ripping a pineapple-shape from his belt and curveballing it hard to the right side. It banged off a support column, then clattered down in the midst of dead chryssalid.

Right between a pair of boots.

" _Jane!_ "

 _Boom!_

* * *

Janet caught the stun lancer's overhead on her gauntlets. Sparks flew, and electricity tried to fry her synapses.

"That's not going to work!" She activated both gauntlets, and her psi-blades went out. They cut the lancer's arm at the wrist, and it recoiled with a cry.

Right into Subject Beta's path, and the Berserker Queen punched it aside with a shrieking howl of challenge.

"Oh, by the Power..." Janet flung herself sideways as the Queen brought both fists down hard from above. A grenade went off somewhere on the right, but Jane's problems didn't matter nearly as much as the monster trying to use Janet's femur as a toothpick.

 _Bang!_

"Left arm!" Meysam worked his gauss rifle's bolt, and Janet lunged. Before the Queen could even finish staggering, clutching the severed line on its shoulder that would have carried stimulants and hormones to its raging muscles, the Templar sprang onto its back, digging her blades in and using every bit of focus she had left to summon spectral lightning.

"On the right!" Fatima slashed in mid-air, and she cut the next line. Green and yellow mix splattered the side of her face as it gushed onto the floor, and the Queen stumbled, wailing in agony.

" _Someone get eyes on Jane!_ " Gallant's voice cracked harsh as usual. " _Tisiphone, tell me Julie's_ –"

"I'm not dead yet, sir." That was Julie, but it was as she pulled Jane from where she'd taken cover under a chryssalid's body. "We're not your average damsels in distress over here."

"No!" Janet screamed when the Queen thrashed harder than it had. She lost her grip, and she flew straight into the Advent collection, hitting a purifier with her shoulder and smashing him and herself into the golden officer with the momentum. She cracked the purifier's skull with her elbow, leaving him in a mess on the floor. The officer scrambled to rise, but Janet flung herself up and straddled him in a heartbeat, her left blade driving into his chest.

Her right blade caught him in the eye.

"Any more Advent?" Her breath came in ragged gasps. Sweat ran through her hair, made all the worse by her amplifying helmet. "The chryssalids?"

"Seems to just be the Queen!" Meysam fired again, and the beast roared in fury. "Get up, Ross!"

"On it." Janet made it to her feet, and she turned for the alien. She started at a jog, picking up speed as she charted her path–

Pain!

"No!" She clutched her head as it drove in, pressing in hard at her edges. She staggered, clutching for purchase on the nearest column as a Presence punched through her thoughts and rewrote her subconscious, annexing her a little more every second.

" _I see you forgot to bring your mind-shield, Templar_." The Warlock's grin turned savage as Janet's world went purple. " _That was a mistake_."

* * *

"Ross!" Jane ignored the brawl with the Berserker Queen, bringing her shard gun up as she vaulted down beside the Warlock. She hit the trigger almost before her feet had hit the floor, too, and the Chosen took the blast right in the gut.

" _Insolent woman!_ " He pointed at Jane as she worked the pump. " _Kill her!_ "

"Wait!" Jane let go of the gun as Janet came in swinging, psi-blades out. The Ranger flipped her sword out, and she parried wildly with every purple strike that nearly rent her apart. "Janet, we're supposed to be allies!"

" _Please do not resist. It will only inconvenience me_." Her eyes pulsed an entirely different kind of violet now: no pupils nor irises, just a purple glow from within that colored the veins running over her cheeks and forehead. " _Hold still, Major Kelly–_ "

 _Crash!_

"Oh, fuck!" Jane dove out of the way. Janet was a hair slower...and it cost her, because the Berserker Queen backhanded her before she'd even finished smashing through some kind of trophy case, rubble flying on all sides. Janet flew too: head over heels across the room, driving her psi-blades into the floor and carving up red-glowing cauterized trails to stop herself from flying off the dark ledge that served no purpose Jane could see.

"Die!" Jane threw her sword, which punched into the Queen's jaw. The animal snarled, spitting it out like a bullet, but Jane had her gun back in hand then. "Die! Die, damn you!"

She didn't. She grabbed Jane in both hands, and pressure lit up her midsection. Jane made a high-pitched, wordless noise as that pressure became fire. Her ribs...

"Drop her!" Bradford's rifle opened up, and the Queen twitched. Slugs perforated its wrist, and Jane hoped Central was better with a scope than with _Avenger_ 's flight controls.

"Jane, go!" Julie's amp burst with power, and the Queen stumbled, clutching her head as light whirled around her. Jane ripped one arm free.

Her left arm, and the Spider Suit's grapnel launcher went off a moment later.

"What are you doing!" It was less of a query than a protest, and Jane would have said it too in Fatima's place.

"Being a fucking idiot, that's what." And she hit the motor, and the grapnel line wrapped around the Queen's throat went tight.

"Shit, shit!" Jane caught its shoulder as the beast thrashed. She frantically climbed, barely escaping being squashed like a mosquito when those enormous hands came in for her. She scrambled to her feet on the back of its neck, heaving for all she was worth while her motor whined and overloaded, venting steam as friction nearly set her line on fire.

The Queen twisted, and Jane lost her balance. She tumbled to earth...but braced her feet on a column when the Queen tried to have a go at Bradford. The beast's own momentum pulled the line even tighter, and Jane clung to it for all she was worth. Her knees burned, her shoulders seared...

The line was going to break. Either it would break, or Jane's arms would get ripped out of their sockets. She couldn't...she couldn't hold on, and she couldn't reach the emergency detach switch without losing her hold and going flying...

With a great choking cry, the Berserker Queen tumbled sideways, feebly twitching. The floor shook as it came down, and Jane's teeth snapped together hard. They caught a bit of her cheek, too, and pain was only the precursor to the iron tang of blood in her mouth.

"My God." Bradford's eyes were wide. "It's..." He paused to put a burst into its brain, and Julie did too. "It's dead."

"Great. Good job, team." Jane hit the release, and her line snapped out of her wrist. She lay on her back, gasping for breath. "I think...I think I need a cold one–"

" _Remain still, Major._ "

"Fuckity fucking fuck-fuck!" No points for eloquence, but Jane scrambled to roll away when Janet came down from Above blades-first. They drove into the ground up to her wrists, and Jane made it to one knee, hands up. Why hadn't she recovered her sword?

"I don't want to hurt you!" Jane backed up while the Templar advanced, eyes still violet. "Don't make me!"

" _Your loyalty to your allies is noble_." The Warlock's gun went off, and Julie screamed. Jane's breath caught, even if she couldn't risk taking her eyes off of Janet. " _It will not aid you, child. Death stalks you in this room, as surely as_ –"

" _Why do they have to talk?_ "

"Hell yes, Commander!" Jane nearly jumped for joy as Fatima flew from the shadows, driving her sword into the Warlock's back. An instant later, there was Bradford, slashing high with Glamdring while Fatima recovered and went low. Jane froze when Janet let out a wail and lunged. "Oh, hell, no!"

Janet swung high. Jane limbo'd under the strike, caught the redhead's wrist on the backswing, and sidestepped an offhand stab. Janet yanked, but Jane kept her grip, twisting the Templar around almost in a full circle to slam her head into a nearby railing.

"Go to sleep!" Jane pulled her back by the helmet to slam her again. "Just take a goddamn nap, Janet!"

" _You will not defeat me_!" The Warlock skittered backward, and he slammed his hands together. A purple barrier exploded up around him, and Fatima and Bradford both cried out when it physically slammed into them.

And shapes rose from the ground, hissing and fizzing in and out like static.

"They're psionic shades!" At least Julie wasn't dead. She pushed herself to her feet, leaning hard on a low wall with a curved alien design. "Projecting them comes from the same pool of energy he's drawing on to create that shield. Take them out, and–"

"Got it!" Bradford's rifle blazed, and Meysam opened up with the Shadowkeeper.

"Get off me!" Janet's elbow flashed, and Jane retreated. The Templar collapsed to one knee, pausing to hit the release switch on her helmet and throw it down. She massaged her temple.

The veins around her eyes weren't purple any more.

"Are you back?" Jane kept her fists up. "If you're still going 'glory to the Elders' on me, it's still on–"

"He overpowered my defenses. I will be stronger in the future." Janet paused, then grabbed for her autopistol. Jane dove for cover.

 _Brrap!_

"...oh." Jane glanced at the imploding psi-shade behind her, coming apart at the seams while it clutched its head. "Thanks, Ross."

"Did you think I was shooting you?" She pushed herself up, still rubbing her head. "Where is he?"

"Three left!" Meysam worked the bolt on his rifle, lined up, and fired. "Two!"

"Watch it!" Fatima yelped a moment later, when one gave her a flying kick that sent her crashing onto her back. Bradford dove in with Glamdring in both hands, and he battered madly at the spectral lancer's defense.

Until Meysam fired again. Jane scrambled for her gun.

"Last one!" Julie's amp warmed up, and she unleashed a spiraling torrent of energy, one that rippled over the room in sync with her shrill cry. The final lancer howled, staggering as gravity seemed to redouble, ripping at it from all sides at once.

" _What are you doing?_ " The Warlock's shield cracked, and he sprang to his feet, eyes wide. " _You cannot_ –"

"For the Elders!" Janet flung herself on him, blades flashing. The Chosen retreated, covering his face with both arms. Sparks flew when her psi-blades deflected off his armored chest and forearms.

" _Your power is hardly enough to_ –"

"Shut up." Jane pumped her shard gun and hit the trigger in almost the same breath.

" _No!_ " The Warlock didn't manage anything else, though: Jane's first shot punched out the other side of his chest, and before he'd even finished stumbling, she put the second one into him. This one was a bit better aimed, and her entire load of alien alloy projectiles caught him in the smarmy face.

His head exploded into yellow mist.

"That was for David." Jane kicked the body as it fell flat. Her eyes misted up. "You fucking whoreson–"

The body exploded in a flash of purple light. Jane covered her head, yelping as it whirled around her, tugging at her sleeves and hair with little hands of hate.

When it cleared, there was nothing left of the Warlock.

"Did we kill him?" Fatima appeared through the haze, EXO suit whirring. She paused to detach a damaged section of her arm. "Is he dead?"

The obelisk at the end of the room glowed, and violet energy shot over the ceiling like the Northern Lights. Something _thrummed_ deep below their feet: something mechanical and psionic at once, something that just radiated power.

"No." If Jane had made mistakes other times in her life, this time she had no doubts. "We just pissed him off."

* * *

"Doctor?" Gallant glared at the wild, insane readings blowing up his display. "Give me good news."

"That device appears to be some sort of psionic capacitor. One that transfers immense amounts of energy directly to the Chosen." Tygan swallowed. "It is restoring the Warlock to health."

"No wonder those things don't die." Gallant ground his teeth.

"With the amount of energy that device is generating, I believe the Warlock could resurrect himself indefinitely." Tygan gave Gallant a very worried look. "I don't think we can outlast him."

"John, do you read?" Gallant glared at the obelisk. "Blow that...thing to pieces."

" _Copy, sir_."

"Commander, we're picking up readings–"

"The day in a nutshell, Shen: the day in a nutshell." Gallant gave her a hard look. "How bad?"

"Remember those signals to external bases?"

" _Wouldn't want your men to get bored while I clean up_." The Warlock's voice in Gallant's ear came with that usual hiss of accursed whining feedback, and he swore, clutching at his comm.

"John! You've got..." Gallant swallowed as icons popped up across the holodisplay in little bursts of teleportation energy. "...incoming. _Lots_ of incoming."

* * *

"Kelly, Tariq, I want you to blow the crap out of the obelisk!" Bradford's auto-loader whirred, and he unloaded on the first of the sectoids to stream out on the left flank. "Ross, you and Julie take the right side. Meysam!"

"On your six, sir!" Meysam paused to reload his rifle. Mariah's father hadn't been the only man who'd loved her. Seeing her body rent up there before the teleportation pad...

 _Hiss!_

"Oh, shut it!" Meysam bashed the viper in the face with the butt of his rifle. It stumbled, shouting something in snake-alien to its friend.

Its friend, whose pupils dilated at the sight of Meysam's armor.

"Yeah, we killed your god!" He fired from the hip, clipping the braver one on the chin. She tumbled, her entire lower jaw flying, while her friend wailed, diving behind a corner and curling up almost in a ball. Meysam cracked the head of the first, still twitching and trying to rise, and abruptly it was no longer a threat. "You come at me and it'll be your skin I end up wearing too!"

"MECs on the right!" Julie's amp roared, and metal rang hard. "We can hold them!"

"You'd better!" Bradford's tracers ripped over the far side of the metallic floors, punching through half the time rather than ricocheting, and the muton who appeared next took half the burst in his face. Meysam put a shot into his gut when Bradford paused to reload.

His last gauss round.

"Aim for the cracks!" Jane's shard gun roared over by the obelisk, and Fatima's a moment later. "Sir, it's starting to crumble, but it's going to take another minute–"

Blackness burst from a psi-portal, hissing and whizzing through the air in a miniature cloud of nanobots. They washed over toward Meysam, hugging close to the ground as he grabbed for the Shadowkeeper–

"No!" He grabbed at his leg as they sunk into place on it, molding to his flesh. They rose, covering his chest and his arms, spreading out down his arms...

"Spectre!" he cried, in the instant before they drove down his throat.

* * *

"Meysam!" Julie swore, ducking as a red MEC leveled its rifle. Hot mag-rounds ripped into the alloy wall she used for cover, punching through and skittering off to ricochet too close to Janet for comfort. "Damn it. This isn't good."

" _I am nearly upon you_." The Warlock's voice rang through the room, hateful and triumphant. " _You have signed your own death warrants coming here_."

"Shut your whore mouth!" Julie popped out, firing a solid burst that punched holes in her enemy's shoulder. One went right into its missile launcher, and the MEC beeped and whined unhappily when it tried to fire and nothing came out.

" _Richardson, I've got a plan_."

"Oh, that's nice, Commander. Took you long enough." Julie yelped, covering her head as the MEC's next barrage came in. "What can I do for you?"

" _Shadow Meysam is coming up on your six. He's going to take you from behind._ "

"He's _what_ –"

" _Blow the MEC. I'll take it from there_."

"Blow the..." Julie spat. "What do you think I've been trying to do?"

No response. Gallant must have switched channels to talk to someone else. Julie gnashed her teeth.

"Right. Blow the MEC: blow the fucking MEC..." She leaned out, rifle up.

"Fuck!" She came right back as a barrage that would have ripped Mount Rushmore apart nearly decapitated her. "That's not going to happen. I can't..." She glared at her rifle. "I don't have enough punch. I'd need a goddamn missile launcher to..."

Oh.

Julie seized her amp, heedless as the MEC approached the corner, gun upraised. She hit the trigger, feeling outward with her sixth sense...feeling, and feeling, and...and..

She found it. _Them_.

The MEC loomed over her, leveling its gun. Julie froze.

Then the firing pins of all its missiles clattered out on purple trails, and the MEC paused.

"Woo-hoo!" Julie dove away, rolling on her shoulder as the scarlet robot blew itself into a thousand pieces, hurling shrapnel left and right across the chamber. "That's right! You just got Julie'd, you son of a...a..."

Her eyes fixed on Shadow Meysam, looming over her with his Shadow...Shadowkeeper held in both hands.

"Commander?"

Glamdring cut Shadow Meysam in half from behind, slicing into him at the crown of his head and coming out through his thigh. The nanobots blew apart, and the Spectre across the field made a chittering, clattering sound of dismay.

Right as Janet jumped on it, slicing it into four mini-Spectres.

"On your feet, Julie." Bradford offered his hand, and Julie hesitantly took it. She leaned on him as she fought to keep her balance with her leg burning.

"Thank you, sir."

"There's no need to call me _sir_ –"

 _Bang! Boom!_

"Whoa!" Julie covered her head as the obelisk cracked, the split flying from top to bottom in a heartbeat. Stone chunks fell, and purple light burst out in a wild spray, like a drugged-up disco ball. She had to avert her eyes after a moment.

"I'm hoping that's a good thing." Bradford checked his ammo.

" _Yes._ " Tygan didn't sound as if he could believe it. " _The regeneration process has been interrupted. The device is malfunctioning._ "

Purple glowed, and overpressure blew outward, nearly flinging Julie off her feet again. Bradford held her steady.

" _What have you done_?" The Warlock staggered, clutching at his head as he returned to the world, eyes wild. " _The Elders! The Elders! Angelis! They are all silent! They are...they are..._ " He let out a tremendous wail, one that echoed to the ceiling and back. " _You will pay for this insolence, humans!_ "

" _...I think now would be the right time to fuck him up_." Gallant's tone turned hungry. " _Target the Warlock with everything you've got_."

* * *

Jane came in first, with one shot left in her shard gun and no reloads. She didn't waste it yet, instead swinging her gun like a bat to crack the Warlock's cheek. The nine-foot tall bastard staggered, but his hand still shot out like lightning, seizing Jane by the throat. He lifted her up until her toes hung well off the floor.

" _You insolent quim, striking at the visage of Angelis' firstborn_ –"

Bradford's heavy slugs stitched the Warlock's shoulder, and he dropped Jane. Wild light shone in his eyes as he darted...away, flinging himself behind a low wall.

Wild _terror_.

"Flank him!" Jane drew her sword, keeping it low as she bounded in. Fatima and Janet raced around the other side, sword and autopistol at the ready, and Julie scrambled for high ground. She fairly flew up some kind of maintenance ladder on the far side–

 _Bang!_

"Julie!" Jane swore when red rounds hit the psi-op in the back. She tumbled with a cry...but she was still moving when she landed hard.

" _I'll live_ ," she gasped over comms. " _Get that son of a bitch, then worry about me!_ "

" _Back away from me, mortals!_ " The Warlock's hand shot out, and Meysam shrieked. He collapsed, clutching his head and twitching.

Jane sighted and fired. The Warlock cried out when her shots perforated his chest, and the noise he made was far more frightened than angry.

"Now!" Bradford raced in, flinging his rifle aside and reaching for his belt. Jane came in first, boosting herself up over a half-wall with one foot.

"Shit!" Fatima slammed down onto her hands and knees, clutching her temples. "I can't... _get out of my head!_ " She punched the ground hard, eyes going purple as she drew on her own power to fight back. "Get out! Get out!"

Janet dropped, both psi-blades coming out as she slid on her side, rocketing under the Chosen's vicious swipe with pointed talons. She cut his hamstrings in one smooth motion, and the bastard roared, staggering.

Jane leapt in, slicing his chest open as she came down. Her second strike he caught, and he wrenched her sword away almost effortlessly. His foot shot out, and Jane didn't have time to move.

"Fuck!" She flew, nearly going over the edge. She clutched the foot-shaped dent in her chestplate, but it didn't matter. Nothing mattered.

Nothing but the memory of David White, and the face of the bastard who'd killed him.

" _You are nothing to me–_ "

" _Shut up!_ " Jane sprang back in, heedless of her searing injuries, giving the Warlock a wild slug to the face. He stumbled, and Bradford hit him from behind, practically rolling over his shoulder while Janet gave him another slash on the thigh and Jane kicked him in the back of the knee. Bradford whacked the Warlock right in the center of his chest, snarling with concentration.

" _Insolent knaves!_ " The Warlock flung Bradford, and he tumbled away, coming down hard by Fatima. Janet sprang back, covering her head as the Chosen lashed out with fists and the butt of his rifle. Jane pulled back–

"Ah!" She landed on her hands and knees after flying a good four feet. She clutched her cheek. Red dripped from her nose, and it coated the Warlock's gun.

" _You are beneath me! You are, all of you, beneath_ –"

"Do you know how it felt, you son of a bitch?"

That made him turn. All eyes went to John Bradford, standing in the center of the chamber with one hand held high.

The Warlock's eyes widened almost comically as they fixed on the detonator in it. He grabbed at his chest...and the shield-shaped X4 charge fixed to his armor.

Bradford hit the button.

With a titanic report, the X4 detonated. The shaped charge funneled all its force out one side, ripping through alloy armor and genetically enhanced flesh with equal contempt. Gore, hot and steaming and alight with sparking flames, sprayed in a cone for a hundred yards behind the Warlock.

Sprayed from the hole stretching from the base of his neck down to his stomach, punched right through him in an instant's worth of red-hot searing agony.

"That didn't even come close." Bradford lowered his hand as the Warlock's remains collapsed, blowing apart into purple smoke.

The obelisk blared. Energy shot out on all sides, ripping pockmarks and holes in the ceiling and walls.

"What's it doing?" Jane pushed herself up, reclaiming her fallen sword. "Is it coming back to–"

Light slammed down before the obelisk. It seared and flashed, but something was different...something was wrong.

" _At last...at long last..._ " There he came, staggering forward with his chest half-repaired, oozing yellow and red blood alike, skin rent and torn like his mangled and savaged armor. His steps were faltering, his knees buckling, and his voice a twisted wreck of what it had once been. " _I hear their voice...I hear it...unobstructed. They are so...so near..._ " Sucking in breaths and spraying yellow when he exhaled, the Warlock tumbled to his knees, eyes hazed. He choked. " _They are everywhere. They are...they are..._ " That light reappeared in his eyes: searing, pounding terror unlike anything Jane had ever seen before. " _They are...they come. They come for me_..."

Blue light washed over him from the ankles up, scourging over his legs and boiling up toward his head. He held his arms out wide, and it ran out down his arms and fingers. In its wake he turned stiff, and his skin cracked and grayed, and...and...

The obelisk exploded, spraying the corpse of the Warlock with its remains.

* * *

 **Author's Note 63: One For The Money**

There are advantages to taking each Chosen out first, but the Assassin is usually my go-to, because that sword is amazing. It renders its bearer _immune to chryssalids_ if they have Bladestorm, and isn't that just the best thing ever? The Warlock is usually my other first-pick if I didn't get the Assassin, because I just don't like him as much as the others. Lately, "Warlock-Assassin-Hunter" has become my pattern, though that's affected by whom I start paired up with. I'm not averse to killing the Hunter first, but he's absolutely my favorite Chosen and I usually leave him for last on general principles.

Even though that pistol is _heavenly_. Yeah, he's got a rifle too, but _that pistol_...

Until next time, _Vigilo Confido_.


	64. War of the Chosen

_Please remember to favorite and follow!_

* * *

 _"For auld lang syne, my dear, for auld lang syne,_

 _We'll take a cup of kindness yet, for days of auld lang syne..."_

 _~Auld Lang Syne_

* * *

 **Chapter Sixty-four: The War of the Chosen**

"Commander."

Edward Gallant, former US Army, glanced up over his desk. "Central. Come in."

"Sir." Bradford snapped to harsh salute at his office door. "Doctor Shen has his report on the Outsider Crystal."

"Right." Gallant massaged his chest. Those twinging pains through his chest and his arms...maybe they were nothing, but they served to make him plenty animated. "What kind of alien sex toy are we dealing with?"

"It's an antenna, sir." Bradford paused as he entered. "Oh. Ma'am."

"I'm furniture, Central." Penny Ferguson glanced up over her papers, giving him a wan smile. "I'm collecting some data, that's all. Go ahead like I'm not here."

"Ah. Yes." Bradford rocked on his heels, and Gallant's eyes narrowed.

"Ask her out later, Air Force." He steeped his fingers, lips thin. "Is there a reason you came in here, John, or are you just taking a piss?"

"I'm not..." Of all the things Prim and Proper John C. Bradford was not equipped to deal with, his mismatch of an inabled Commander was high on the list. Odd that the Top Gun-style hotshot Raptor pilot was more of a stickler for Punctillo with the capital P than the West Point graduate, wasn't it? Still, Bradford drew himself up. "Shen's decrypted its algorithm, and has a proposal for a device to hook it into our global satellite network."

"Global fucking network." Gallant's eye twitched. "Call it like it is, John: it's our _rich-and-wealthy-country_ satellite network, and screw everyone else. Fucking Google can put a satellite over Sudan, but we can't be assed. They won't fork over a truck of bullion, so they deserve to get raped by sectoids. Shows you how much the Council cares."

"Commander." Bradford bit his lip. "Commander, you can't talk like that. Remember what happened in the White House?"

"Bite me, Central. I'm tired of us pretending we deserve to win this war when we're half the bad guys the aliens are to start with. If the President doesn't want to hear it, he can damn well cut my funding."

"What if he does, sir?"

Gallant's eye twitched. "I know some guys in the Middle East who'd pay through the nose for laser rifles. Fuck the politicians: I can run this shindig off of arms dealing if I have to."

"Sir." That wasn't Bradford. Penny raised one ebony eyebrow, and Gallant had to glare at his desk for a minute. Wisely, his XO bit his tongue.

"Point taken, John." Gallant couldn't bring himself to say anything else. "Is that all you had to report?"

"Actually, no, sir." Bradford looked as if he wished that had been it. "There's been some kind of hullaballoo somewhere around Marseilles. Some kind of dam...EXALT and alien forces, both going after some kind of weapon."

"Right. The Parisian." Gallant turned that over for a minute. "Prep a squad. Larsen. Chilong." He shuffled files for a minute, pursing his lips in thought. "Send those two Assaults, and tack Lieutenant Ye in for sniper support. Is Else out of the medbay yet?"

"Yes, sir. Shen thinks this version of the MEC prototype will have fewer bugs."

"Fucking words of comfort." Gallant waved dismissively. "I'll be down to the Globe in ten, John. Deploy the team."

"Sir." He saluted, and his eyes went back to Penny. She smiled, and if it wasn't at least a little inviting than Gallant didn't know shit about women.

"Loyal, you are." Gallant thought he was very diplomatic for waiting until the door shut.

"Central is right, Edward." She never called him that outside of these private moments. Gallant didn't give a shit about his image, but Penny did, and that was probably for the best. "You can't piss off everyone all the time."

"Bunch of freewheeling assholes. They don't care about winning this war, Penny, or they'd have put Van Doorn in charge of this mess." Gallant stewed. "Fucking Van Doorn. Why's there always got to be a prick who's better?"

"If they really thought he would be a better pick, they'd have chosen him." Penny shuffled her papers, leaning back in her chair. She didn't give Gallant the chance to shoot back. "You need to go easier on John, too."

"Easier on him? He's a stiff: a cardboard cutout someone did a Pinocchio on. I bet he was the jackass who wouldn't get me air support in time back in Iraq."

"This is what I'm talking about, Edward. You need him, so you need not to assume the worst of him."

"Need him? Did you even read the after-action report from Munich?" Gallant scoffed. "I'll never need someone of his caliber."

"No man is an island. Don't start thinking you're one." Penny flicked her bangs out to the sides. "Everyone needs allies."

"Hm." Gallant rapped his fingers on the desk. "There's always you, if I get desperate."

"Always." Penny rose, tucking her folder under her arm. "I'm going to check in with Doctor Vahlen. I'll see you in Command."

"Oh. Tell her I said..." Gallant cleared his throat. "Never mind."

"Just ask her out, dummy."

"Bad form." He shook his head stubbornly. "Later. After the war."

"After the war could mean a lot of things, Edward." Penny paused before the door. "Take advantage of the time you have. Of all people, you should recognize how quickly someone's fate can change in a war."

"Later." Gallant reached for his cane. "There will be time later. There always is."

* * *

The wind came gently off the Irish Sea. It teased the thin coastal grass, flicking it up in little sprays like the handfuls of sand caught in its teasing fingers. The odd grain came in with the breeze to tease Edward Gallant's hair and temple, and somehow that combined with the smell of the water served only to remind him of days even longer lost than the First War.

"It's a lovely place, John." He leaned on his cane, its end buried in scraggly sand and grass. "Mariah would love it here."

"I hope." He stood by the little cairn, and his eyes were very downcast. "She deserved more than this."

"She died a hero."

"She died choking on her own blood, put out of her misery from miles distant while chryssalids used her broken body as a chew toy." Bradford rubbed at his eyes, and Gallant pretended not to notice. "Thrown in a grave we couldn't mark for fear Advent would pull her back out to desecrate her some more."

Gallant sighed. "I'm sorry, John."

"No parent should have to bury their..." His chest heaved, and Gallant hesitantly reached out to brush his shoulder. "No parent should..."

"Théoden. _The Two Towers_. The movie version." Gallant let out a low breath. "What was it Gandalf said?"

"' _He was strong in life_. _His spirit will find its way to the halls of your forefathers_.'" Bradford covered his eyes. "She was strong. Far stronger than I ever gave her credit for. And now..."

The wind teased the shore, flicking light sprays of salty water up over their backs.

"If you don't mind, Edward..." Bradford knelt in the sand. "I think I'd like to be alone."

Gallant pursed his lips...but he nodded. "Good-bye, John."

When he turned, he didn't make for _Avenger_ , looming half-in the Irish Sea a ways down the beach. Gallant dug his cane into the sand, heading north along the coast.

His hand went to his empty breast pocket. Mariah hadn't been the only one interred here.

"Sometimes, being in command just means..." Gallant started up a sloping rise, eyes down. The setting sun was bright, and the gulls sang well and loud: if there was perfect thematic weather for a funeral, this certainly wasn't it. "I suppose you knew what you were talking about, Dad."

Of course he had. Vietnam had been even worse than Iraq, hadn't it? Not only had Michael Gallant seen his friends fall all around him, not only had he been shot down and captured and forced to escape, he'd ended the trek knowing he'd lost the war anyway.

Much like Gallant's own results defending the planet.

He paused. Slowly, Gallant adjusted his trajectory, warily skirting anything he'd have to climb, keeping to the flat and level wherever possible. The damn sand kept trying to take his cane, but he held on with an iron grip despite the chips in the handle.

"What's got you out here?" She looked up from under the brim of her ballcap, hands in her pockets. Gallant shrugged.

"Small island. Only so many places you can brood about how shit your life has become without bumping noses with someone else."

"Ah." Jane tugged on her cap when the wind picked up. "Stupid thing..."

The sunset was fire on the horizon. It seared it orange and red, turning the water into a potion of multicolored paints. It lit up the clouds like an explosion, and its golden rays painted Jane's tanned cheeks with wild streaks. It reflected in her eyes, too: a bright kernel of light, slowly fading.

"Lovely place." She was the one to break the silence, still admiring the art in the distance. "Beautiful. Peaceful. Far away from Advent."

"Yeah." Gallant reached to his breast pocket again.

She really was gone.

"Moira would hate it here."

"Pardon?" Jane gave him a sidelong glance. Gallant shrugged.

"There's nothing to do. No science to be about, no aliens to torture...just a lovely bleeding sunset, all laid out over toward Britain, and all she can do is watch the damn thing. Up in the morning, down in the evening...the ancient Greeks worked that shit out, to say nothing of Galileo and Copernicus. There's nothing for her to study or learn. Just a great big ball of burning gas. Up, down, up, down, up, down..." Gallant chuckled under his breath. "She'd go mad. She's going to haunt me forever for leaving her here."

"Oh." Jane's lips twitched. A moment later, she chuckled too, even lower. "God, David would pitch a fit too. Beaches are only good for lying on and drinking, and we didn't bury him with any booze."

"Probably good fishing." Gallant eyed the waters critically. "Did he fish?"

"I..." Jane's eyes dimmed. "...I don't know." She kicked at the sand. "Moira?"

"...fuck." Gallant bit his lip. "I guess it's scientific, sort of? She wasn't a marine biologist though." He turned it over in his head. "I don't know either."

"Funny, isn't it?" She could suggest anything she wanted, but that wasn't mirth in her expression. "How you can feel so much for someone...they can mean so much to you, and yet you don't know much when it counts."

"I..." Gallant swallowed. Something pricked at his eyes; probably loose sand flying on the wind. "Yeah. But..." He inhaled. "You and David knew each other well."

"Did we?" Jane's eyes didn't brighten. "We met all of three months before the end."

"That's more than..." Gallant frowned. He turned numbers over in his head. "I took over the Project in March of '15. They hit the base and stuffed me in the pickle jar in..." He whistled. "Four for me and Moira."

Jane laughed again, almost sickly. "Someone you haven't known for long at all, and yet..."

"Yeah." Gallant glanced at the sunset again: bright and clear and lovely. "Hell. I had high school girlfriends for longer than I even knew Moira existed."

Silence. The wind tousled his hair.

"I miss him." Jane removed her black cap, and she pulled the band from her brown ponytail. "I have dreams. I wake up, and..."

"God. Yes." Gallant's eyes stung harder. "I keep thinking...I can pop down to the labs and check on her. Only..."

More quiet. The sand blew around their ankles.

"I miss her too." Gallant's next breath came in husky and ragged. He leaned hard on his cane, even as his eyes seared. He reached up to clutch at them. "I just...I just..."

"I know." She put a hand on his shoulder. "Trust me. I know."

Whether it was the touch or the tone, that was the end of it. Gallant could stay strong for Bradford, but something about that moment in time, under that sunset by the sea...

"Hush." When Gallant broke and yielded with a wail, Jane pulled him in close. Seemingly heedless of his tears soaking into her shirt, she let him crumple into her. She set her chin overtop of his head. "I know, Edward. I know."

Her own tears trickled into his hair a moment later.

* * *

"By the Elders. By the spirits."

General Din Dourde stepped over the mangled body of a soldier in much the same golden uniform as the one she wore herself. Her stomach twisted: twisted and turned, shifted and surged. The stench! So much death in one place...

And that was just here, in the Sanctum. Advancing through the base with her detail, following her master closely in case there were more hostiles lurking in the shadows, had been a heart-pounding endeavor. All the fallen...the remnants of the chryssalid paddock...

Now this. This Sanctum where once Din Dourde had given service before her promotion, and the wreckage and rubble it had been reduced to. The Sarcophagus shattered and broken, left in wreckage at the end of the room that still hissed and sparked with psionic flames trying to boil off the energy of other worlds poured into it.

She had seen the aftermath of the Battle of the _Avenger_. She had been there to help pick up the pieces. She had even seen the remnants of the facility in Switzerland.

This was different. This was different on a whole new level.

" _This was personal_."

"Sir?" Dourde turned.

" _This was personal, General_." The Hunter knelt over the shattered body of the Berserker Queen, poking her with the Darkclaw. " _This wasn't self-defense, like the battle last month. This wasn't a raid gone wrong, like Switzerland_." He couldn't pluck thoughts from her head. That could only mean that they'd had the same ones at the same times, and _that_ spoke volumes of his influence on her. " _This was personal. This was done for vengeance. This is a message_."

"What message?" Dourde gulped, looking away from the sea of carnage.

" _You can probably guess._ "

Unfortunately, he was right. "I would say–"

 _Boom!_ Purple light exploded from the Ascension Pad, and Dourde reflexively took a step back, even as all the soldiers and priests of her detail knelt. Some stared at her when she didn't, but they didn't enjoy the favor she did.

"... _oh_." The Assassin's eyes fixed on the Hunter almost before she'd finished taking in the devastation. " _If the Elders have sent you, my presence must not be needed as I presumed. I take my leave_."

" _I wouldn't do that_." The Hunter rose, holstering his pistol. The Assassin regarded him for a minute.

" _Why?_ "

" _This_." The Hunter waved, as if a gesture could encapsulate the barbarity of what had happened. " _Our brother_."

" _Recovering under Angelis' personal care, is he?_ " Her lip curled. " _Does he expect us to carry his_ –"

" _He's dead_."

Were the subject matter not so serious, Dourde might have laughed: the Assassin stopped midsentence, mouth hanging open. For a moment, it was as if she simply couldn't process what she'd heard.

"... _what?_ "

" _He's dead. Killed by XCOM, right here in this sanctum. His Sarcophagus is destroyed_." Whether the Hunter had intended his pause to be for effect or not, it certainly did the job. " _He's_ dead _, and he won't be coming back again. I don't think that leaves you as empty as you'd like to claim_."

" _Nor you as satisfied_." She got over her freeze, clearing her throat in a surprisingly human way. " _This is troubling. I will leave it to Angelis and her forces to investigate_."

She turned back for the Ascension Pad. Dourde breathed a silent sigh of relief. The faster she moved on, the less likely she would be to–

" _Sister._ "

The Assassin froze. For that matter, so did Dourde. There was something entirely different about the Hunter's tone.

There was something an awful lot like... _care_ in it.

" _We've had our differences. I don't pretend I loved our brother_." The Hunter glanced over his shoulder, though, at the remnants of what had been the Eldest of the Chosen. " _But XCOM certainly won't be planning on whacking him and leaving us to run in the weeds. They'll come for us next_."

" _Let them try_." She tapped the hilt of her sword. " _I am not intimidated by Edward Gallant and his renegades_."

" _Neither was our brother_." That seemed to penetrate her world. " _The world has changed. The rivalries of peacetime must be put aside_."

Did he sound... _afraid_?

" _What are you suggesting?_ " The Assassin glanced over her shoulder.

The Hunter's lips twitched. " _Loyalty among thieves_." He extended a hand, slowly. " _What you learn, pass it to me. What I learn, I pass to you. It matters not which of us brings this quarry in first, little sister, not when XCOM has shown the ability to do...this._ " Something hard worked over his expression. " _This wasn't done for military necessity. This wasn't a backup plan. This was an assassination, sister: an assassination and a message. It's a statement that they intend to take this conflict to another level._

 _"It's a statement that they're coming for us next."_

She studied his outstretched hand. Dourde thanked the Elders for her helmet: neither of them could see her eyes stretched to twice their normal size. What was she witnessing? This was unprecedented!

" _I will consider it_." The Assassin left him hanging, turning back to the pad. " _Perhaps this is a moment where change is necessary_."

" _Of course it is. The war has changed_." The Hunter's eyes darkened. " _Angelis' wrath will be terrible, and her retribution swift. She won't take this lying down. Gallant's little war of resistance is over._

 _"The War of the Chosen has begun_."

* * *

 **Author's Note 64: Title Drop, Bitches**

Killing a Chosen is exactly the kind of thing that raises eyebrows. No one with an ounce of sense wouldn't take serious note of that and adjust their tactics.

I know in the game, it plays a totally different cutscene when your first Chosen is killed. That scene may or may not be coming up in the next chapter or two–as of the time of writing this, I haven't decided–but either way, I prefer this for the sake of our narrative, as it helps to show the stakes being upped. A cycle of escalation has begun. XCOM kills the Warlock, the Chosen band together to do more damage to XCOM, which only makes it more critical to kill the two of them...who knows where it goes from there? Who knows if XCOM will succeed? You know me.

Some of my favorite scenes to write are grief scenes. The quiet moments where people contemplate what they are, what they've done, what's come before, and all that kind of thing...I live for that. This won't be the last, I'm pleased to say. Doesn't that make you happy?

Until next time, _Vigilo Confido_.


	65. Identities

_Please remember to favorite and follow!_

* * *

 _"'Cause I've got friends in low places,_

 _Where the whiskey drowns and the beer chases_

 _My blues away...and I'll be okay..."_

 _~Garth Brooks, "I Got Friends In Low Places"_

* * *

 **Chapter Sixty-five: Identities**

 _Wham!_

Pratal Mox hit the floor hard, thankful that at least it was padded rather than the direct decking. Bolt patterns jutting up into his skin were not a pleasant thought.

Then there was no time for woolgathering, because someone twisted hard on his wrist.

"Tap, Pratal." Elena Dragunova firmly planted a foot on his chest when he tried to twist out of her hold. "Tap. You're out of options."

"Am I?" Mox drove his knee into the back of hers, throwing her off-balance. That was enough, and he ripped his hand free and finished the sweep in the same motion. She landed even harder than he had. Mox seized her arm, locking her elbow and pushing until she yelped. "Tap, Elena. You are beaten."

"Go to hell, alien scum!"

"At least I have a place where I belong, wasteland drifter."

"You two are dweebs." That made them both pause. Their heads turned as one, and Aileen Quinn paused to very intricately mime priming the Bolt Caster and leveling it. "Bang. Now I can deadlift without getting interrupted by an interspecies courtship ritual."

"Interspecies?" Mox scoffed. "Once I was as human as you. I am enhanced, not alien."

"Yeah?" Aileen leaned back on the bench press, crossing her arms. "I've never met a guy with a name like Pratal."

"Perhaps it was not the name my human mother gave me." Mox shrugged. Aileen's blonde eyebrow clicked up a notch.

"You sound uncertain." She cocked her head to the side. "Who were you before you got modified, then?"

"Hm." Mox probed his memories most carefully. "I do not remember. I suspect the Elders removed those memories as might tempt me into disloyalty after they decided to reward me for service. Ironic, if so. The first thing I remember is awakening in some kind of genetic enhancement facility."

"Yes, it is much the same for me." Across the gym, another face very much like Mox's popped up from its own regimen. "I recall a red facility. One with long hallways lined with modification pods."

"Yes." Mox frowned. "Did we undergo this procedure at the same place, Barta?"

"Either that, or Advent's enhancement facilities are made to the same design." Barta Boktoa frowned thoughtfully, running a finger along her ritual scars. "It is entirely possible and eminently logical."

"When Betos said she was assigning another Skirmisher to the crew, I figured we'd get more badass in the fighty-fight department." Aileen stared at the ceiling for a minute. "I didn't think about how now, there's _two_ of you."

"I do not understand."

"It's nothing, Barta." Mox waved her down. "Aileen is fond of–"

 _Wham!_

"Tap, Pratal!" Dragunova pinned him hard, driving the blade of her arm into his throat. Mox choked, flailing. "You shouldn't have lost focus, but since you did..."

"Girl power!" Aileen beamed. "You're welcome, Outrider."

"I didn't need your help."

"Oh, still being Miss Ice Queen, yeah?" Aileen lay back down on the bench, cracking her knuckles and adjusting the weight. "Did you get enhanced in a facility with long red corridors?"

Mox smacked Dragunova's arm, and she grudgingly relented. He sucked in a long breath. "That was–"

"It was entirely fair and you know it. If you wanted to win, you should have paid attention. Cheating is what the losers whine about to make themselves feel better–"

"...I was going to say it was adroitly done, Elena." Mox rubbed at his throat. "One of the things I admire about Reapers is their willingness to use every advantage and damn the consequences."

"Is that so?" She tilted her head. "At least you're man enough to admit you lost."

"Ew!" Aileen made a show of shivering. "Get a room, dweebs!"

"I believe she is jealous." Barta's lips twitched. "But I am not the best at reading human emotions. This is all very new to me."

"Hah." Aileen turned her head away very deliberately.

"Come on." Dragunova rapped Mox's shoulder. "Another round."

"As you wish." He rose, dusting himself off. "Skirmisher versus Reaper."

 _Skirmisher_. How much of his identity was bound up in that one word?

Questions, questions. Questions like...

 _Who was I before I became what I am today?_

* * *

 _Bang!_

"Shit!" Cameron Rogers scowled straight down for ten feet, sticking his hand through the gap in the metal in utterly useless fashion. "Stupid, stupid..."

"Ha, ha!" A brunette head popped out from below another set of metal mid-bolting, and the arm attached to it pointed as if to draw the entire ship's attention to one Canadian in particular. "Look at the dork who can't even hold a ratchet!"

"Can you just pass it up?" Cameron huffed. "It slipped. I'm sweaty."

"Sure, sure. Whatever you say." She pushed herself out into open space, and Cameron couldn't help but watch as she lazily wriggled over to the ratchet in question. Dark ponytail and green t-shirt up top, with every movement pulling a bit more of her ripped-up jeans into view...

"Think fast!"

"Wait!" Cameron yelped, twitching to the side as someone else snagged the ratchet and tossed it all at once. He covered his face when it shot up past him, hit the top of the drop bay, and nearly came back down on his nose. "Fuck you, Liang!"

"That's 'fuck you, Ma'am', Moose." Da-Xia Liang pulled up her welding mask to stick her tongue out. "I outrank you, dork."

"You stole my insult!" Still on the floor, Lilah whacked her on the back of the ankle. "Weren't you supposed to be attaching the stabilizers?"

"Junior's working on that." Liang shrugged. "Figured I'd tell you the rudder wires are still fucked up to high heaven. You stomp on the right pedal and the thrusters engage."

"Amateurs!" Lilah spitted Cameron with a glare. "What the fuck, Moose?"

"How is this suddenly my fault? You're the one who–"

"You didn't stop me, did you?" Lilah had to do a bit more wriggling to make her way out of the low space under the belly, and Cameron enjoyed every minute of it.

"You're supposed to be working, aren't you?" Her green eyes sparkled. "My, my, you're getting lazy."

"Lazy!" Cameron jumped. "Oh, no, I was just...um..." He scooted back over to his bolt pattern. "Just fix the wires, Firebrand."

"You know he's frightened when he goes back to calling you that." It sounded like Liang helped her up off the floor. "I'm due to talk to Central around lunch. He wants us done yesterday, if not sooner. What do I even tell him?"

"Tell him things are going great!"

"Didn't we just establish the rudder controls are shitted up?"

"No one asked you, Moose!" Lilah must have thrown something, because it clattered hard against the metal under his chest. Right under it, as a matter of fact: it was like she had a sixth sense about who was where on the skeleton at all times. "Don't come knocking on my door tonight!"

"I thought we were meeting at mine." That earned him another thrown something, this one substantially heavier. "Careful! You'll damage her."

"You're the one damaging her! You won't shut up, so I can't stop throwing things!" A very lifelike image of her stomping her foot and shaking her fist overdramatically popped into his mind's eye. "Liang, tell Central Cameron's a deadweight."

"I don't think that's a very good idea..."

"You shut up too, ground-pounder." Lilah paused to hum a few bars from Highway to the Danger Zone, which she did very well. "Don't make me shut your mouth for you."

"You're not woman enough by half."

"Careful..." Cameron lacked the sense not to say anything, but he had enough to keep it under his breath. He cleared his throat after a minute of terse silence. "Shouldn't we be worrying about what to tell Central?"

"Oh, yeah, him." Competition instantly forgotten in the most ADHD fashion imaginable, Lilah metaphorically tore off after the nearest shiny object. "In all seriousness, there's only one thing to tell him."

"That we're a shit-tier construction crew and he should get some real professionals in here?"

"Okay, there's only _two_ things to tell him." Lilah made an annoyed shushing noise when Liang made as if to interrupt again. "Here's what you say, and you say it just like this." She cleared her throat, and her best impression of the Grenadier's Chinese accent was insultingly bad enough to be hilarious in the best possible way, so much that Liang and Cameron both burst out laughing. "Your new Skyranger will be ready in two weeks, _Bradford-san_."

"That's Japan you're thinking of. Racist." Whatever sting might have been in the words, Liang's giggling eradicated.

"Same thing, whatever. Tomato, tomahto." Lilah bent over, and Cameron, chuckling under his breath, returned to work. "The important thing is that he needs to know progress is- _oof!_ " That came in tune with a flat _whack_ , and the sound of cowgirl boots thumping hard on the hangar deck as Lilah spun. "Did you just?"

"Ha!" A flash of motion appeared through the plating as Liang started for the hangar doors. "Just you insinuate I'm Japanese again, why don't you? You'll get a lot more than a smack."

"Promises, promises!"

"Lord..." Cameron continued his work on the Mark Two Skyranger, chewing his lip thoughtfully. "I had to pick the crazy ones, didn't I? And they had to pick each other too...am I lucky or cursed?"

* * *

"It's dead?"

"Damn right!" Jane slapped Anne Lawrence on the shoulder, beaming all the while. "Dead, gone, buried...maybe even killed."

"Yes!" She nearly jumped, pausing only when _Avenger_ rocked in a spell of turbulence. "My people have done battle with this creature for a long time. That he is gone...this is an extraordinary gift."

"Believe it, sister." Jane paused to lean around the living quarters doorway. "Meysam's with his buddies."

"Oh, Nui and Kang?" Behind Jane, Irina Vasilieva nodded agreeably. "They spend most of their time together."

"Since Mariah's death, at least. Meysam had eyes for her like you wouldn't believe." Jane pulled back before anyone could spot her distinctive cap. She tugged on it, almost unconsciously. "At least we're getting some of our own back. Things have been bad these last few weeks."

"Yes." Anne pursed her lips. "Was this different before the Battle? I have only seen this aftermath."

"I'm not going to say shit was spectacular, but we had good days." Jane leaned on the wall. "And it looks like we'll have a few more now. No more Warlock dropping in from the sky to blow our missions to hell...these are going to be good times now. We're on the upshot."

"You should be careful saying things like that." Irina crossed her arms: one organic and one a mechanical prosthesis. "James wouldn't approve of tempting fate."

"Yes, he did have a thing about that, didn't he?"

"Who?" Anne blinked. "James?"

"Irina and I were in a Resistance cell before we joined XCOM." Jane punched the blonde Russian on the arm. "James was our leader. Kind man, but very sensitive to Murphy's Law and its corollaries."

"Ah." Anne nodded. "I hope he is well."

"He..." Jane's eyes flicked down. "He's dead."

"Oh." Hollow. It echoed from a long way away, even though Anne was within hugging distance. "My apologies."

"It was an ambush: some clever Advent fucker knew we were coming in on a raid, and encircled us." Irina's lip curled. "I blew it all up."

"Including me." Jane couldn't inject much vitriol into her tone: she was too busy trying to lock herself down. Faces in her mind's eye...

"And myself. Don't take it personally." Irina scoffed. "Blind luck we both made it through. Jane escaped, but I was captured."

"I think I know of this. The raid that recovered Doctor Vahlen." Anne nodded.

James and Obsidian. Carlos Mendoza. Nunez, Weber, MacLeod, Kowalski, Jiaying, Mariah, Zhang...

"Jane?"

David.

"What?" She got that far, but only barely. Her voice cracked on the vowel, and...and...

"Jane!" Irina caught her shoulder with mechanical fingers, even as her face went blurry.

"It's nothing!" Jane covered her eyes, trying to rein her tears back in. "It's nothing. I'm fine."

David. David White the jerk, quippy and snappy and macho and...and so protective, and so gentle when the mood took him...

"I keep thinking..." Jane sniffed. "I keep thinking I'll just pop over to his room and tell him something or the other. I see his face around every corner."

Neither Irina nor Anne seemed to know what to say. Jane used her sleeve to mop up her tears.

Sadness bore her down. The best cure was to fill herself up with something else: something hot rather than cold, that seared her into action.

"The Warlock deserved what he got. He deserved worse." Jane ground her teeth together, digging her nails into her palms. "And I swear to God...if I get my hands on the Advent bastard who arranged that ambush..." The noise that came out of her throat was far more animal than human. "He deserves to suffer too. Eaten from the inside by a miniature chryssalid, maybe." Hate boiled away grief, and Jane bared her teeth. "Whoever he is...he's next."

* * *

"Still can't believe it came to this." Edward Gallant leaned on his cane, shaking his head as he watched the recorded footage displayed on screen. "We did this planet a service when we went full _Carthago Delenda Est_ on the Switzerland facility."

"Damn right." Bradford crossed his arms, poised at Gallant's right hand as usual. Around them, the computer processors of the SHADOW Chamber hummed and whirred in the darkness.

"I hope those gruesome images..." Tygan paused to massage his chest again, leaning with one hand on a control console. "Well. I hope they are the worst of what we discover today."

"The worst?" Bradford got it out before Gallant could. "They're slaughtering us." He gestured at the footage of a raven-haired woman floating in a chemical tank, flesh stripping away. "How does it get worse, Doctor?"

"We're about to find out."

"Is that a threat, Shen?" Gallant shivered. "That sounds like a threat." He chuckled, and if it was a bit nervous, who could blame him? "Are we going to find out this evil juice they were making in Switzerland is what they fed me when I was in the pickle jar running Advent's operations?"

"God only knows." Shen spent a moment typing, eyes darkening. "Jiaying would know."

"She wouldn't tell us, though." Gallant sighed. "If only."

"The nightmares, still?" Bradford had never sounded that subdued. Wordlessly, Shen nodded. Bradford sighed, kicking at the deck. "Yeah. Me too."

Silence lingered in the SHADOW Chamber.

Gallant cleared his throat after close to half a minute. "Tygan...is there any reason we can't have more lights in here? I mean, this place looks like a nightclub without the disco ball. Do you get off on techs banging their shins on things in the dark?"

"I've been running chemical analysis on the substance Julie brought back from the black site whenever I have time since our return. Breaking down the component elements." Shen typed quickly, bringing up several dialogue boxes. "Cataloguing sequences."

"Genetic sequences." Tygan settled in front of his own computer, and Gallant's lips thinned. "In near-infinite combinations. All bearing human genetic markers."

"If you've been looking since the return from Switzerland..." Gallant whistled. "There must be thousands of them."

"Tens of thousands. And the procedure is still in the beginning stages."

"What?" Gallant's eyes bulged. "Doctor...are you serious?"

"Unfortunately, he is." Shen finished her work, stepping back while the computer worked. "Which is why I've patched us into the ship's computer: so we can cross-reference these signatures with the data on the drives we took from the Warlock's lair."

"Logical." Gallant waited, rapping his fingers on the chipped handle of his cane. "Come on, Clippy."

"' _It looks like you're trying to save the world from alien overlords. Would you like some help?_ '" Bradford snickered.

"Some days..." Gallant chuckled too.

His mirth faded.

"What is that?" He frowned at the holodisplay. "Shen?"

"That's...an admission file." If she understood what it meant, she did a good job of hiding it. "From a gene therapy clinic. Evangeline Moreau..."

"Oh..." Gallant's eyes widened when a red icon popped up at the corner of the file, flashing as if to show prominence. "Avatar."

"Just what exactly is in that vial?" Bradford clutched the rail he leaned on with white knuckles.

"I would never...in my worst nightmares..." Tygan settled in at Gallant's left, and even his dark face was remarkably pale. "...dear Lord."

"Doctor?" Gallant traded looks with Bradford. "Doctor, you're scaring me."

"...I believe we have found the missing civilians."

"What?" Bradford's eyes bulged. "That's...that's impossible."

"All those people...just looking for help..." Gallant sucked in breath. "Medically screened and selected."

"Suitable candidates taken to that contemptible facility." Tygan's tone dripped with revulsion.

"To be _refined_ into the material we now possess." Shen shivered.

"But...but..." Bradford shook his head. "But..."

"Why?" Gallant caught Tygan's shoulder. "What's Angelis' play?"

"I could not even begin to fathom a guess." Tygan swallowed. "There exists no research...no cause that would justify this...this brand of science."

"Science? This is genocide, Doctor! Call it what it is!" Shen's eyes blazed. "If this is what Jiaying's husband was working on...bastard deserved what he got." She spun, and her fingers flew over the keyboard.

"What are you doing?" Gallant took a half-step in her direction. If she was deleting the files in a mad frenzy...

"Maybe I can't figure out why, but that material has to be shipped somewhere." She hit one last button, and a red face appeared in the display. "Julian?"

" _I heard_." He hummed for a minute. " _The material is being shipped to a facility in Tennessee, referenced as 'the Forge'._ " The image of a large, sprawling complex appeared, as if a construction blueprint. " _Standard defensive complement_."

"Well, then." Bradford might not have gotten over his distrust for the AI, but the rage in his eyes was a clear sign that he was choosing his battles. "I strongly suggest we pay them a visit, Commander."

"Plot a course." Gallant nodded. "I'll pick out a squad–"

"Commander!" Janet appeared in the doorway, pausing to sketch a salute. "Sir!"

"What?" Gallant took a steadying breath. "I don't like the sound of this."

* * *

"So...the Warlock turned to...stone?"

"Honestly, Sylvie?" Julie blew at her bangs. "I was right there, watching the whole thing, and I really couldn't tell you what happened. It was _very_ unclear."

"Hah." Charlotte Moineau tossed a chess piece to herself, something cold and satisfied shining in her eyes. "At least it is dead. It is dead, it is gone, and this is the start of repayment for the debts to be paid."

"We all have a lot of those." Julie paused to stir. "Sylvie, do we have any spray for the pans?"

"No." As usual, her accent added an extra N on the end. "We used the last of it on the brownies."

"Fiddlesticks. Butter?"

" _Oui_." Sylvie Richard plucked a stick of that out of the refrigerator. "I'll take care of it."

"You're the best." Julie patted her on the shoulder without looking. "This is going to be the best _we-just-murdered-a-guy-so-let's-party_ cake I've ever made..." She started coughing when warm lips pecked on her cheek. "Oh. Okay."

"You did not like?" Sylvie lazily began buttering the pans. "It seemed like the thing to do."

"You two are just adorable."

"Shut up and do something useful, Charlotte." Julie gave her a venomous glare. "I don't see you helping make the victory cake."

"I cannot cook to save my life. I have been known to burn salads." She nodded very seriously. "There are reasons I went to Evangeline's for dinner as often as I could. She was a stupendous cook." Her eyes dimmed. "All she ever wanted was to be a wife and mother."

"I'm sorry." Julie sighed. "I think I'd like that too. I mean, I like kicking ass, and I like...you know." She snapped her fingers, and her nails glowed purple for a minute. "But getting married, maybe kids...that's not so bad. In another life..."

" _Oui_." That wasn't Charlotte. Sylvie studiously kept her eyes on the pan as she worked. "When I was a little girl, I often dreamed of a husband and a life well away from madness. Even when I became old enough to understand a husband was not for me, the idea of something not born of war and revolution...I think it is everyone's dream, deep down. Most simply cannot admit it."

"Yeah." Julie continued stirring, morose and thoughtful. "I always liked the idea of kids. I mean, living the life I did, even before coming on _Avenger_ with Bradford...I knew it couldn't happen. But that didn't mean I stopped dreaming. Doesn't, present tense, I suppose."

"I often wonder." Charlotte's lips thinned. "Her husband and her son. What do they believe happened to us? What became of them in the aftermath of our disappearances? Did Advent come for them as well?"

"Jeez." Julie shivered. "We'll have to mention it to the Commander. Maybe we can look into their status. Leaving anyone in Advent's clutches...then again, they weren't radicals, right?"

"Not in the slightest. Evangeline was a stickler for the rules. Her only crime was existing." Charlotte didn't look any happier. "I wonder if Nathan will prove just as tempting a target."

"I'll talk to Central." Julie nodded firmly. "I don't know if we'll be able to do anything for them, but at least we can try."

 _Ding!_

"The oven is ready." Sylvie checked it, as if distrustful of the preheat timer. "Let me go over the pans one more time–"

" _Mission Alert!_ " The klaxon echoed through the ship's corridors, harsh and sudden. Julie nearly dropped her bowl.

"What the hell!" It wasn't a question. She thrust her slough of cake batter back onto the counter. "Can't it wait ten fucking minutes–"

"Hey!" Nui Tashiro leaned around the door, Meysam and Kang Ho-Jun on her heels. "It's a bad one, ladies."

"Are we about to be shot down again?" Charlotte jumped to her feet.

"Worse." Meysam's eyes glittered with fury. "Advent's retaliating for the Warlock. They just hit a Haven in China."

* * *

 **Author's Note 65: The Blacksite Vial Is Full Of Alien Cake Batter(Talk About Devil's Food Cake)**

The idea of refining people down into a concentrate is icky at best. I don't quite understand the physics of it, though I can hazard a few guesses. Regardless, it certainly makes for an interesting plot development. Though it took a while for me to figure out that the admission file and the location of the Forge were not actually contained _in_ the Vial, but it was a cross-reference with other data.

The whole Skirmisher thing doesn't work well with the fact that XCOM initially thinks the Advent soldiers are actually modified humans. Oh no! Spoilers! Yeah, if you're this far into the fanfic, I'm going out on a limb and assuming you've played the game this far. You would think that it wouldn't be a surprise later when we find out the Advent are manufactured, since...you know...we _have_ Advent on our team. Yet there's no change to the dialogue there. Missed opportunity and logical plot hole. I won't say it's the only plot hole in XCOM 2, but it's one of the more glaring ones. As far as plots go, XCOM 2 is actually at an advantage over most other games because the whole "distant omniscient perspective of a mostly player-created plot" thing means they don't have to supply all of the answers. I mean, notice how much I've been able to tweak and add and remove without affecting damn near anything! I should stop padding this AN out and actually work on the next chapter. Sigh.

Until next time, _Vigilo Confido_.


	66. Instinct

_Please remember to favorite and follow!_

* * *

 _"The last thing I heard was you whispering 'good-bye'..._

 _And then I heard you flatline..."_

 _~Skillet, Not Gonna Die_

* * *

 **Chapter Sixty-six: Instinct**

" _Alien forces just hit a Haven codenamed 'Humanity Falls', not far from Harbin...hard. There may be survivors, but that's a best-case scenario_."

"Central really knows how to set the mood." Meysam couldn't inject much fire into his voice. "How are you holding up, Richardson?"

"I'll live. Ask yourself." She boosted herself over a fallen tree, one hand on her amp. "I miss the Skyranger."

"This would be a lot more convenient." Charlotte hovered at Meysam's left. Her drone buzzed around her head, as if ill at ease. "I hope the Commander knows what he is doing sending us in there directly."

"Someone's got to respond. And _Avenger_ has to be protected as long as she's on the ground."

"I did not say I do not understand, Templar." Charlotte glared at Anne for a long moment. "I said I–"

"Enough." Meysam checked his rifle. "Junior?"

" _Thermal is reading multiple signatures ahead. They are a mix of alien and human._ " The SPARK hummed, as if processing. " _I cannot tell how many of the human signatures are Advent._ "

"Perfect." Meysam jerked his head. "I'll find a sniping position in the trees. Charlotte, Anne, flank Junior as he takes point. Kang and Julie, you are in reserve. We're looking for any civvies we can find–move them back this way and clear the area. Remember we don't have Firebrand on call to pick 'em up this time."

"Of course I'm in the back." Julie's eyes blazed. "Look, just because I was shot–"

"That's not it!"

Meysam would have continued. He would have continued until Julie cut off, because he wasn't in the mood for second-guessing.

What stopped him was the shape vaulting from the darkness.

"Bugs!" He snapped off a shot in a flash, and the chryssalid shrieked, staggering as his mag-round punched into its leg. It skittered, pushing off a tree trunk...and right into Anne's path as her psi-blades came out.

Its second scream echoed through the trees, and birds scattered.

"Go!" Meysam smacked Julie on the shoulder while she was still flinching. "They'll have heard that!"

" _Think you just lost the element of surprise._ " Gallant's voice hardened quickly. " _No more screwing around, Menace. There are lives on the line_."

* * *

" _For every failure, there is a second chance_."

"Mercy...please..." The human pushed back on all fours, cradling her infant in her arms. Blood painted her cheek: sprayed there when her mate had tried to protect her, and the inevitable had happened in a flash.

" _Where my brother failed was in underestimating the nature of his enemies. Thinking himself superior for his ideology_."

The infant wailed. It was perhaps four, and there was no understanding in its desperate screams. How had this frail species evolved past the primitive stage, when their young created so much racket to attract predators?

" _Now I am his second chance. Ideological conflict is not in my nature, so I am hardly torn by the riven split between one camp and another_."

"Don't hurt me...don't hurt him..." The mother's eyes hazed with tears. "Please. Mercy."

" _Mercy?_ " What a strange concept. Dutiful consideration was mandatory. " _I fail to see the reason. Are you attempting to engender sympathy through a display of frailty?_ _I see no benefit to me from this arrangement. You have what I need_."

"Please... _please_..."

" _Ideological conflict is not in my nature. It matters little to me what belief system takes precedence over the others. I am one thing above all else, and I can honestly say I do it best_."

The mother covered her infant with her body, and that was enough to turn away her first grab. She scowled.

The mother choked when four feet of ethereal steel drove into the base of her spine, severing vertebrae in a single stab.

" _I am a living weapon_." The Assassin ripped the blade free out the mother's flank, and she stepped over the growing pool of blood. The infant wailed louder: if it lacked comprehension, it still certainly understood something traumatic was happening. " _I am the greatest weapon ever forged by hands Earthly or Elder._ " She loomed over the child, red-dripping sword in hand. " _And a weapon has only one purpose_."

The infant screamed.

* * *

"I don't like this."

"Really, John? I thought it looked like Disneyworld on Spring Break." Gallant scowled. "Talk to me, Menace. Tell me you've got life signs and things are moving along."

" _We're almost to the edge of the camp_." At least Meysam had his head on his shoulders. " _No contact yet_."

"Keep me posted." Gallant scowled even harder. "Fuck."

"No contact is...bad?" Shen blinked.

"Damn right it is, Chief: no contact means those bastards are still shooting at civvies. If they're gonna shoot at someone, they should shoot at those of us who shoot back. Fucking cowards." If he'd had the ability, Gallant would have seized a rifle and marched out that very moment. "I don't like bullies who are too scared to pick on people their own size."

"Should we have sent Kelly?" Bradford glanced over his shoulder. "She's the best we've got."

"Which is why we need her and the rest of the detail protecting the _Avenger_. Until Firebrand's got wings again, we can't take any risks with dropping people in." He paused. "Menace?"

" _Still nothing, Mother Hen_." Julie chuckled a little nervously. " _How's that for a codename?_ "

"Not funny. Don't give me shit now, of all times."

" _Sorry, sir. I was just_ –"

"Julie!" Bradford clenched the railing when her scream echoed through the comms. His knuckles turned white. "What the hell just happened?"

* * *

One moment, Julie was hurrying over cracked and broken ground thrown up in sprays by a harsh swarm of footfalls. Her boots came down in dark patches of hard dirt and mud rent by bullet impacts and fallen casings that she kicked aside by the dozen. Sweat trickled through her hair and down her cheeks, and she'd had to pause to wipe at her forehead with the back of her hand.

Then the world upended.

" _Julie!_ " That was Bradford, a world away or something like it, barely audible over her own scream. Julie covered her face with her rifle, and in the nick of time too: the chryssalid that burst up from the ground under her feet snapped its jaws on the weapon instead of her neck.

"Shit!" Julie screamed again when its talons sunk into her shoulder plating. Thank God, but they didn't penetrate.

The animal hauled, chittering triumph. It yanked the gun away–

Julie's shoulder strap went taut.

"No!" She staggered, then lost her footing as the beast whirled her around by the strap and her shoulders both. It slung her practically over its shoulder, and she came to a harsh stop in midair. The strap bit into her throat, and she grabbed at her neck in the instant before the chryssalid threw her on the ground.

She lunged left when it dove for her, scrabbling in the dirt. Bradford was roaring in her ear, Gallant was shouting orders...who the fuck cared? Julie had to roll again to avoid the chryssalid's foot as it stabbed...and then it yanked on her gun again, dragging her back into range.

"Got it!" Julie hit the strap release, and she threw herself away from those jaws as they snapped for her leg. She scrambled to all fours, grabbing for her amp.

"Julie!" Anne raced her way, psi-blades out...and the ground beneath her exploded upward as _another_ one vaulted onto her, tackling her hard into a tree.

"It's a trap!" Charlotte screamed, right before another one lunged at her. It flipped her in pancake-fashion, slamming the Parisian blonde down on her back. Charlotte howled when it drove one pointed leg into her thigh, effectively nailing her in place.

"No!" Julie got her amp out, and she hit the trigger, drawing on the psionic fields around her. A ball of purple energy popped into her hand with a whine and hum. "Melt, you bitch!"

The chryssalid over Charlotte recoiled when violet light drove knives into all of its eight eyes. It staggered, clutching its head and wailing, snapping blindly at anything that came by.

"Oh, fuck!" Julie couldn't stop her own chryssalid from grabbing her amp, but she was able to duck out of the way before the animal completed the assault. She grabbed a rock on instinct, flinging it into the monster's mouth.

It bit the stone in half without pausing.

 _Bang!_ Meysam's sniper rifle went off, and with a clattering roar Kang's mag-cannon joined the assault. More chryssalids burst from the earth, and Julie had to throw herself flat when another popped up behind her. It slammed into the first, and they went down in a tangle, biting and clawing at each other in a mad frenzy. Yellow blood sprayed.

"Jesus Christ!" Julie recovered amp and rifle, and she put a burst into the feuding pair. Both went down, still thrashing even with their heads blown to pieces. "Charlotte? Anne?"

"Alive!" Anne decapitated one, then covered herself as its body continued to attack for a full minute, spraying gore from the stump.

 _Zap!_ Charlotte's drone hit the one pinning her with a jolt of electricity, and she scrambled over to her rifle before it could recover. She finished it in two shots.

"My leg..." She lapsed into French for a long moment, and even with what little instruction Sylvie had passed on, Julie had to wince. "I don't think I can stand!"

"Stay there!" Meysam fired again, though Julie couldn't see at what. "Junior, Kang, push forward into the center. Anne, cover Charlotte and get her to a good firing position!"

"Mama?"

"Huh?" Julie spun. "Finally! Someone's alive!" She adjusted her strap, then hurried across the chryssalid corpses for the sheet metal door of the nearest shack, hanging limply on one hinge. "Over here. Come to me."

The little boy didn't move. He sat on the floor, wailing, tears streaming down his cheeks. He tugged at his leg, half-hidden behind an overturned table.

"Oh. You're hurt." Julie pushed her way inside, gun up on general principles. "Stay calm. It's okay." She winced: this boy had good lungs. "Just...just quiet down..."

" _Julie?_ "

"Oh, Central." She keyed her com. "Sir, I found a survivor. Can't be more than three or four years old."

" _Get him and get out. We're not reading many life signs down there._ " Now it was Gallant. " _Most of this camp looks like it's been wiped out_."

"Sir, I'm not leaving as long as there's even one potential survivor left..." Julie swallowed. "Jeez. I hope that wasn't his father I just stepped over. Nearly cut in half." Her stomach did a flip.

" _That's not a request, Julie! Get the boy and move to exfiltrate: sensors are picking up a whole lot more heat signatures in the ground. This camp is a lost cause_."

"Say again, _Avenger_?"

" _Don't pull this fucking bullshit–_ "

"Sorry. Having trouble reading you. Must be interference in the building." Julie rounded the table, dropping her hand from her comm to reach for the boy. "Come on. Let me see what's got you pinned..."

There were three things that caught her attention, and they presented themselves in quite orderly fashion.

One: there was indeed an object pinning the child, driven into his foot like a nail.

Two: there was a woman's body lying past him, but she was wrong: nearly rent apart like the man, yes, but her skin bubbled and bulged, tinted sickly yellow and green and twitching in the most horrendous ways.

Three: the object driven into the boy's foot was a knife. A very familiar knife.

"What in God's–"

The corpse burst, and Julie snapped her gun up as a half-dozen miniature forms burst out of it in sprays of yellow goop and red blood. Two of them fell on each other in a flash, but the others, still dripping with whatever slime they'd incubated in, started forward at a dead run, as if instinctively drawn toward prey. Julie got a shot off, and it punched right into the chest of the beagle-sized chryssalid she bore on.

Then... _it_ hit her from behind.

"Ah!" Julie staggered when a hand seized her hair. Something hard drove into her ribs, and she choked. Her assailant used it for leverage, flipping Julie over onto her face hard enough her nose broke from impact. The world went red, then white, before slowly starting to seep back together.

" _I believe we have met, child_." The Assassin ripped her knife free from the toddler's foot, and she grabbed Julie by the throat with her free hand. She slammed her against the nearest wall, and the world tinted up again. The building rattled dangerously. " _Jane Kelly isn't here to save you this time, is she?_ "

* * *

"Julie!" Bradford grabbed for the canister with his rifle. Wild terror glinted in his eyes: primal and deep and altogether torn up. "Someone get over there before the Assassin takes her!"

"John!" Gallant whacked him with his cane, and then his attention was back on the holodisplay. "Life signs?"

"Sir, we're picking up multiple thermal signatures holed up further in." The tech bit his lip. "Right through the main body of that...nest."

"Then that's our target."

"Sir, Julie–"

"Is a goddamn professional, Central!" Gallant hissed through his teeth. "Let me make the goddamn decisions or get the fuck off my bridge and stay that way."

Bradford gripped the rail even harder: so hard it should have bent. But he bit his tongue, too, and Gallant went right back to action planning.

"Junior, armored fist down the main avenue. Punch through to the civilians and escort them out! Meysam, Kang, cover him and provide assistance. Charlotte, update?"

" _I can..._ " She broke off to hiss and yelp. " _I can stand. I can walk...I think. I cannot fight_."

"Move to the woods. Stand by to cover the civvies as they return with Menace. Lawrence!"

" _Commander?_ "

"Flank around the east side while the enemy's attention is on Junior. If they stall out, you're the civvies' only hope."

" _I will see it done_."

"Someone get Dragunova and Mox moving that way. God knows if they'll make it in time, but they're the closest guard unit."

"Sir!" Shen keyed her comm. "Outrider, do you read?"

"And Julie?" Bradford's eye twitched.

Gallant let out a long breath. "Charlotte, you still there?"

* * *

"Lock down this intersection!" Meysam fired the Shadowkeeper two-handed, and mag-tracers ripped into the first chryssalid to lunge his way. It staggered...and Junior's fist drove into its head, sheathed by a glowing shield.

" _I will keep it secure_." Junior threw the corpse aside, heedless as the bugs lunged his way, slashing with hardened talons. His helix cannon whirled as it warmed up, and quick bursts punched through their exoskeletons as easily as if they were merely terrestrial beetles. " _Multiple hostiles engaged_."

"This is a slaughter!" Kang raced into it anyway, unloading at full auto. His tracers were their guiding star, and Meysam hurried to follow them, picking off anything his barrage left on its four hateful pincered feet.

"Makes you wish for the attack back in Syria, huh?" He paused to stick fresh munitions into the gun. "Stupid ancient piece of..." He kicked the still-thrashing upper half of a chryssalid Kang's fire had cut in two, then put the pistol to its head and pulled the trigger.

"Well, I guess it's not all bad..." He passed the shredded corpse, throat very dry.

" _Menace, this is Central._ " The old man did _not_ sound happy. Was Meysam going to be the new Mariah? There was a thought. " _We're reading movement underneath you. Watch your step!_ "

"Kang!" Meysam jerked his head at the road leading up to what looked like an oversized barn. "Check for traps."

"With pleasure!" He drew his detection device, primed it, and hit the trigger.

 _Ka-boom!_

"Again!" Meysam waited while plasma energy ripped up the field, blowing outward from the crater in a tremendous emerald surge of overpressure. Chryssalid parts flew with the spreading shockwave, and Meysam sighted in on one, missing an arm, as it tried to pull itself out of the dirt and charge.

 _Bang!_ Before the body had even tumbled, Kang pitched another grenade further down the path. It clattered down, and...

 _Boom!_

" _Hold your fire, boys!_ "

"Anne!" Meysam put his eye to the scope again as she appeared from ahead, tearing across the field with psi-blades out. He picked off a chryssalid that lunged for her feet, and Kang hosed a pair that tried to cut her off. Her own blades rent a pair of adolescents that went for her knees, and then she reached the barn door.

"Move!" she cried, kicking them open. "Back to the west! All of you, before more come up!"

" _Avenger_ , we have visual on the civvies." Meysam paused to kill another bug. "I make at least thirty of them."

" _Roger that, Menace. Cover them on the return route_."

"Right. Cover thirty people...there's four of us, counting Junior..." Meysam checked his ammo. "And I'm on my last clip for the rifle. Fucking lovely." He hissed between his teeth. "Where the hell is Julie?"

* * *

"...bitch..." The world swam in and out, and Julie shook her head to try and clear it. "What happened?"

" _Remain still, child_." The Assassin! The hand on her throat!

"Shit!" Julie sucked in breath as the bitch–the awful _bitch_ –reached out and put a hand on her cheek. Julie grabbed at her wrist, but...but...

Purple seared into her head, blotting out her vision. She yelped, lashing out with her feet while she pried. Had the Assassin's hand fused with her cheek? It felt like it...it burned and boiled, and tendrils dug underneath into her psionically-enhanced neurons.

Memories. She sifted through them methodically, discarding childhood memories of Arlington, from birth to watching the Pentagon reduced to rubble. She threw Julie's time in the wild with Bradford and Aunt Penny to the wolves, poking specifically for coordinates: flight paths, landing zones, distinctive features traceable by satellite...

"You won't..." Julie tried to bite her hand, but she couldn't. Everything was hazy and indistinct...even the baby chryssalids circling her legs, held in check by some instinctive or psionic fear of the Assassin. "You won't get anything out of me!" Her nails dug into her palms, and she fought to close her mind. "You can go...go and suck your brother's..."

" _My. You are a feisty one, aren't you?_ " She sounded amused: amused, as she tore through Julie and Sylvie's accidental courtship, lip curling a little further with every memory. " _What a pointless life you lead. You do what remains of your race a disservice, Julia Richardson, by your knowing decision to sacrifice the potential for procreation in the name of sexual pleasure–_ "

 _Zap!_

"Charley!" Julie could move: she could move when the Parisian's GREMLIN unloaded volts into the Assassin's tentacle-hair. Getting out of the witch's grip required that she use her head, and so she did. And the Chosen's blue nose cracked so nicely that Julie couldn't resist doing it again. " _Merci beaucoup!_ "

She broke the Assassin's grip, and Julie crashed on her side, rolling away in the heartbeat before a sword could nail her down by the throat. The blade flashed up on the rebound, and Charlotte's drone let out a sparking wail as lost two stabilizers at the same time. She herself was nowhere to be seen, and the GREMLIN tumbled to the floor, hissing and beeping.

The baby chryssalids swarmed past it, shrieking and calling.

"No!" Julie grabbed the upended table, and with the strength of adrenaline and hate she flipped it over again. It came down hard on one of the four little monsters, landing hard enough to break its fragile head. It continued to twitch, even as its siblings came on.

"Ow!" One bit through her thigh plate, and Julie seized her fallen rifle, using its butt to break the adolescent from above. She fired on the third, and the one round that hit it was the size of its entire head. The results were nothing short of gruesome.

Her leg twinged. Something hot tingled in her bloodstream: something personal and agonizing.

"Shit!" Julie staggered, catching herself on the wall. She pushed up, trying to convince the limb to bear her weight–

" _No!_ " She covered her face when the fourth baby vaulted on her from the table, hitting on her shoulders. Its mass was enough to tip her over, and she hit the ground hard, unable to even break her fall as the devilish creature snapped at her cheeks. Saliva and venom sprayed her face, and drops went into her eye. It burned: burned in a deeply personal way that implied very bad things.

Then she forgot about her eye, because the chryssalid ripped at her chest plate, carving great slices in her armor. Its talons got through, ripping her stomach and higher, and they came out red even as Julie shrieked. Her world was pain: pain and wild action as she grabbed for the chryssalid's limbs and jaws.

" _Kill!_ " The Assassin watched, a hand on the hilt of her blade. She bared her teeth. " _Kill! Kill!_ "

"No!" Was that Julie's imagination, the flash image of Sylvie popping up behind her eyes?

The chryssalid lunged. Julie grabbed for its mandibles one-handed, blood trickling over her from a dozen wounds, driven on by a boiling will to live that–

She missed. Those mandibles came down on her throat.

"Fuck you!" Julie's fingers wrapped around her fallen amp, and she used it to break the chryssalid with one strike. It crashed, skittering just like the older ones had even with its head dented to half its usual size.

" _Feisty is an understatement_." And then she came on, sword flashing. Julie screamed as fire lit up her back from shoulder to hip. Something hot sprayed, and she tumbled.

Amp still in hand. Julie hit the trigger.

" _That won't save you!_ " The Assassin lunged, sword high overhead. Julie spun, still holding the trigger.

The Assassin's blade came down right on the wild orb of purple psi-light she held up.

Overpressure blew outward both ways: hot and stinging and smelling of lilacs. Julie tumbled head over heels, barely covering her head before she came down on the still-twitching chryssalid corpses. Her elbow crunched a head into paste, coming up dripping yellow.

And when the light faded from her burned, traumatized eyes...

"...fuck." Julie dropped her head to the floor, sucking in great gasping breaths. "She's gone. She's gone. She's fucking gone."

Breathing was hard. Everything hurt. It took all Julie's strength just to get to her hands and knees, coughing and spitting up on the corpses littered through the shack.

"Central?" Fingers shaking, she found her comm, knuckle-deep in yellow gore. She thrust it into her ear anyway. " _Avenger?_ Anyone?"

" _Julie!_ " Was Bradford...afraid? " _You're alive!_ "

"So...so far." She pushed, and she arduously made it to her feet. "I think. If I was dead, I wouldn't hurt this much, would I?"

" _Get your ass falling back, now!_ " Gallant, as usual, had no time for shit. " _We're abandoning the area. We've recovered everyone still alive except you_."

"Oh. Right." Julie claimed her rifle, leaving the parts of her amp to hiss purple steam for God alone knew how long. "I'll just..."

She paused.

"...oh." She swallowed. "Hey."

He was still crying, clutching his foot and wailing. If there were words in there, they weren't in any language Julie even recognized...but there was certainly distress, and he was certainly alive.

"Come on." Julie extended a hand, barely even noticing how stained and shaky it was. "It's time to go." He stared at her, and she swallowed. "They're coming: more of them. You need to come with me." She eased forward, hand outstretched. "We need to go."

He blinked slowly.

" _Julie, where the hell are you?_ "

"Just a minute more." She inched a little closer. "Take my hand. It's all going to come right. I promise."

There wasn't silence. Too much was burning, too many bugs were still twitching, and too many people were shouting westward for that to ever happen. Julie bit her lip, though, because the child didn't respond.

Until he reached out and took her hand.

"That's it." Julie struggled to stand, but sweeping his little weight up in her arms wasn't nearly as herculean of a task. "Just stay right there, okay? Let me get you through this. You're safe now.

"You're safe."

* * *

 **Author's Note 66: Number Of The Beasts**

Chryssalids get creepier the more you think about them. They have to be the object of nightmares for the entire resistance movement, and XCOM in particular. I won't even cite evidence...just... _yeesh_.

I often, in the first game, encountered terror missions that were chock full of chryssalids and nothing else. Usually at least once per playthrough. In XCOM 2, that hasn't happened as often, but I couldn't let the opportunity to show how devastating a swarm could be pass by.

Until next time, _Vigilo Confido_.


	67. Seeds

_Please remember to favorite and follow!_

* * *

 _"The pill I keep taking, the nightmare I'm waking,_

 _There's nothing, no nothing, no nothing but you!"_

 _~P!nk, Beautiful Trauma_

* * *

 **Chapter Sixty-seven: Seeds**

"You can't be serious. You just..." Gallant shrugged helplessly. "You can't. You _cannot_."

"Deadly." Julie's nose was broken. She had a patch over one eye to keep her from rubbing at the antiseptics they'd had to inject to fight the venom infection. The less said about the mess of bandages on her chest, the better...and even thinking about the hurried surgery and sterilization they'd had to perform on her leg wound made Gallant, a man who'd seen plenty of field medicine in his time, shiver. She had a cane too now, though hopefully she was the lucky one and hers was temporary.

And yet, here she was, and the fire in her visible eye was no dimmer than before that godawful...there was no word for what had happened in Manchuria. It wasn't a fight. It wasn't even a brawl. That had been some kind of...cage match. Holocaust.

Those words didn't do it justice either. Nothing did.

"Julie..." If Bradford knew how to make her see sense, clearly he couldn't express it any more than Gallant. They traded helpless glances. "What you're asking for is impossible."

"I disagree. Sirs." She paused to cough, a hand on her lacerated ribs. When she resumed, there wasn't a hint of pain in her voice. "He's small, so it would only take a little work to move a bed for him into my and Sylvie's quarters. He doesn't eat much."

"Do you..." Gallant wanted to bang his head into the desk. "Julie, what about his own family?"

"I asked every survivor from the camp. None of them have any relation to him. Only one or two had even seen him before: his family were newcomers from Alaska who fled overseas on a decrepit tugboat. From what, they wouldn't say. I guess no one will ever know now." Julie never left attention stance, even as she rattled through every possible objection Gallant could think of. "I can keep him out from underfoot. I'm going to have plenty of time recuperating for the near future anyway, so that can be my primary mission, at least until he learns how _Avenger_ operates. Sylvie can help when she's not busy."

"Let me guess." Gallant swiveled his chair, trying not to scowl too hard. "You've already discussed this?"

" _Oui_." And if Sylvie was any less determined than Julie, she belonged on a stage. "It is the right thing to do."

"You want to bring a child...not just a child, a toddler...onto this ship." Gallant ground his teeth. "Do you realize what you're asking?"

"Sir." That was neither agreement nor denial. Both psi-ops regarded him thoughtfully, which was the most damned unfair tactic ever. Now he had to come up with the next sentence.

"We can't take care of a child. We're neither day-care nor apartment complex."

"Sylvie and I will worry about that. Like we said: he won't eat much or take much space."

"This is a military base."

"Kids lived on those in your time, didn't they?"

Gallant tried hard not to grind his teeth even harder. "Do you have a smarmy back-sass for everything?"

"Sir."

"We can't do this, Julie." Bradford gently put a hand on Gallant's shoulder. "We just can't. What if we get shot down again?"

"He'll be at no worse risk than if we leave him in a Haven." Sylvie this time, as she cut her eyes at her girlfriend. She was holding on to Julie's hand awfully tight...

Gallant inhaled, trying to keep his cool. "Dress it up however you want, but you're asking to add a child to our war effort." He winced internally a moment later.

 _If either one of them brings Mariah up..._

They didn't. And that they didn't say a word just made her loom all the larger in the room, peering out from behind Gallant's terminal and the empty space where his photo of Moira had lived for so long.

Kids. The one thing Gallant had never wanted, that he'd never seen in his future. Oh, possibly on some far-off day when the war–first Iraq, then later the Invasion–was over, but never...never prominent. Never something he'd dreamed about. Just finding a woman he could stand had been hard enough for most of his life, and after his crippling, a whole host of issues related to his own temperament had cropped up.

Unless it had been his own dickery the whole time and he'd only been able to see it after being laid low...now there was a thought to keep him up at night.

"Commander?" Bradford's voice pulled him to the present, and the issue immediately across his desk.

"Why?" Gallant met Julie's gaze as levelly as he could. "Why do you feel the need to do this?"

Shit. Changing the topic was perhaps the biggest single step a man could take to changing his answer, too.

"He lost everything. So did I, once." Julie looked down for the first time. "I can't just let that be unanswered, can I? I found him, so he's my responsibility since no one else has claimed him."

"You...you..."

Moira flashed up in his mind. She'd seemed a lot like him: career-focused, driven to win and succeed in her passions. If she'd thought about children, it was after romance too...and they'd never had the chance.

 _It's an experiment, Edward!_ That was how she'd talked him into signing off on the plan to taze an alien and bring it back for a taste of their own anal probing. _If you never take risks, you blind yourself to boundless potential_.

In hindsight, she'd been hinting. But Gallant had always been too preoccupied with the war...honestly, too _afraid_ to take a step her way.

Was this the same?

"...send a message to Shen with what you need for modifying your room." The words were out before he'd even realized the decision was made.

"Sir?" Bradford stared like he'd popped the lid off an elerium core and taken a healthy swig.

"Sir!" Julie's eye lit up. "Thank you, sir!"

"I expect no trouble from this arrangement." Echoes of Mariah, bouncing around the walls...she'd have supported this. What did that say about it? Even using Moira as reasoning...she had been the woman who'd created the alien Rulers. Was this going to turn out like that?

"None. Not a bit." Julie saluted, very formally. She even rose without Sylvie's help, which earned her an annoyed-girlfriend glare that almost made Gallant, who had many times been the recipient of that lovely look, wince with sympathy. "Thank you, Commander."

He nodded, saluting back. "Anything else, ladies?" When they shook their heads, he nodded. "Right, then. Sylvie, get some kip. We're lifting off in two hours, and it's seven more in the air until we reach our destination. Since Julie got herself off the duty roster, I'm pulling you in for the Forge."

* * *

"As you can see, operations are well under way. We've increased output by sixty percent in the last two weeks alone." He gestured expansively at the white production floor, covered with terminals and pods humming and working on their little tasks. "I believe we will be able to field another full division within a month from this facility's excess production, even after we replenish the losses from the recent...incursion."

" _That's a very nice profit and loss statement, but I'm not from Wall Street_." The Hunter crossed his arms, scowling at the Forge's production floor. " _I didn't come here for share price information._ "

"Why did Angelis send you, then?" The doctor lowered his eyes when he spoke her name. Din Dourde, awakened by her patron or not, wasn't brave enough to forget the gesture either.

" _I'm here to check your defenses, Doctor Kipler_." The Hunter beamed. " _In short, I'm here to make sure you can get on with your wizardry without getting a magnetic projectile implanted in your spleen_."

"For which I am certainly grateful." Matthew Kipler inclined his head, as if to prove it. "Gallant and his renegades will eventually find their way here. However, our security has never been stronger. We have muton patrols covering the access points, and there is, of course–"

" _Ol' Rusty._ " The Hunter nodded sagely. " _Gallant will not be deterred by a roomba on steroids, Doctor. You need some brains on the ground to put him on the defensive. Fortunately, you have me for that_."

"As you say, Mighty Hunter." Kipler glanced out at the production floor. "I have an update on Specimen Thirteen."

" _Give it here, then_." The Hunter took Kipler's datapad when proffered and immediately passed it to his left. " _I'm not much of a reader_."

"Sir." Dourde gingerly took the pad. "Are you sure..."

Kipler frowned. "I think this is classified beyond her level–"

" _It's not classified beyond mine, and I like having someone read me stories_." The Hunter sat on Kipler's desk, which creaked under his weight. He flicked something small and orange from his belt pouch. " _Think fast!_ "

"Sir." Dourde caught it without looking. Kipler took the second one between the eyes, and he managed to catch it before it hit the floor while the Hunter pointed and guffawed.

"Is this a..." Kipler examined it dubiously. "...Starburst?"

" _I used to like lemon drops, but they leave a bad taste in my mouth lately. So I started chewing things, and that's a lot more fun_." The Hunter paused to dump six of the multicolored candies into his mouth and eat them all at once. " _Now, General?_ "

"It says here–"

" _That's not how you start a story, is it_?"

Dourde scoffed. "Excuse me, sir." She cleared her throat. "Once upon a time, in a faraway land called the Forge–"

" _I ruined her_." The Hunter beamed. " _I ruined her perfectly. Can you imagine one of my late brother's minions being so fun, Doctor?_ "

"Um." He didn't quite seem to know what to say.

"Specimen Thirteen has accepted the advanced psionic strands with aplomb." Dourde's eyes widened as she continued. "Muscle density is at least three hundred percent stronger than Twelve, which has now been liquidated. The improvement from Twelve to Thirteen has also resulted in nearly six hundred percent of the psionic aptitude, and the addition of faceless strands has created a self-regenerative cycle."

The Hunter let out a very loud snore, which made Dourde jump. He eyed her challengingly.

"...it's badder and weirder." Dourde offered Kipler his datapad back.

" _Finally, you speak my language_." The Hunter chewed thoughtfully. " _How many in the series?_ "

"Only the one. The Fourteen model is being assembled, and Angelis wants four of them for testing. We've outsourced direct production to external facilities."

" _Excellent. And the Thirteen_?"

"We're using it as a template for the moment. We should have no further use for it within forty-eight hours, and then we can liquidate it too."

" _Perfect. That's business wrapped, then_." The Hunter pulled out his own datapad. " _I'll scour the perimeter once night has fallen and shoot some birds. For now, I'm going to watch Dragonball Z_. _Someone bring me a milkshake and a bunch of those little plastic army guys._ "

* * *

Knocking on the door was the first thing to register. He grunted.

"No, I'll get it." Movement on his left. He let out an incoherent protest, reaching for her hand or whatever else he could find.

"Be good, now. I said no." Lightly, she smacked his wrist as she wriggled out from under the blankets. He watched surreptitiously as she threw a robe around herself, then gingerly tiptoed over the icy metal decking until she reached the door. She paused to coyly grin back his way–so much for surreptitious–before hitting the partial-open switch, making the door slide out about halfway. "Who?"

"Me." Da-Xia Liang paused. "I see you two have been busy."

"Oh..." Cameron Rogers, now a lot more awake, sat up in bed. He cleared his throat, rubbing at the back of his neck. "I...um...I just..."

"Relax: I'm not going to blow you up." Liang scooted inside, and Lilah closed the door behind her. "It's a bad time for me anyway."

"What do you..." Cameron paused to cough. "Oh. Forget I asked."

"See, this is why two is better than one. As long as their schedules don't overlap, you can switch off!" Lilah beamed, while Cameron spluttered. "I think this topic unnerves him."

"A lot of topics do." Liang shook her head. "I've got orders from Central and the Commander: we're launching a strike on the Forge tomorrow. And when I say _we_..."

"Ah." Lilah scowled. "We're not done building the Skyranger Two."

"We'll be paradropping in directly from _Avenger_ and extracting with the help of local Resistance elements on the ground. That's the plan, at least." Liang nodded at Cameron. "You and I are on the team."

"Who else?" Cameron threw the sheets off and rose, stretching.

"Major Kelly's in command. We're getting Mox, Dragunova, and Sylvie as well." Liang shrugged. "It's going to be a hell of a fight. This facility is supposedly very high level and important to Advent."

"We'll wreck it good." Cameron nodded. "What time?"

"Commander wants boots on the ground by ten local time." Liang's eyes flicked down. "Lilah, I think he likes me better."

"It's cold! That's all." She nearly muscled Liang out of the way, while Cameron jumped, unconsciously trying to cover himself. "Don't you worry, I know my way around a joystick."

"Uh..."

"Sounds like you've got a long night, Moose." Liang's lips twitched. "Maybe I should stay and watch."

"Please do!" Lilah beamed. "I'll show you both how it's done."

"Did I ever wake up?" Cameron frowned as thoughtfully as he could given the circumstances. "I think this is better than my actual dream."

For some reason, they both thought that was terribly funny.

* * *

The _Avenger_ was always cold. Wracking her memory, Jane couldn't think of one time–even _one_ –where she'd been uncomfortably warm.

"Idiots don't know what they're on about. Snowballs ain't so rare in Hell." She topped off her shot glass, put it to good use, and poured again. "Why don't we have a furnace on this heap of wreckage?"

No one answered. Thank God: she was alone in the bar save for the old music deck playingsomething from Nickelback, and if someone started talking back...well, that would be the moment to either put down the drink or take up a crucifix, and both seemed equally repugnant.

"I have to stop drinking," Jane muttered, as she downed another shot and poured. "I'm going into battle tomorrow. No one ever wound up all the better for being blitzed when shit started going to hell."

"Actually, one of the survivors from the _Titanic_ only lived in the frozen Atlantic waters because he was toasted."

"Really?" Jane turned around, and she patted herself down for a moment. "Must have misplaced my cross. Oh well." She made one with her fingers. "Begone, Satan!"

"Satan? Bitch was an amateur." Edward Gallant leaned hard on his cane as he eased to a seat at Jane's side. He brushed the finger-cross away. "Got his ass kicked once and turned to a prick."

"Just like you, eh?" Jane fished out another shot glass and did the thing.

"Yeah, just about." Gallant claimed it, then the bottle, and he drank from the latter instead of the former. "Get yourself drunk the night before we blow Tennessee into orbit and I might have to lose my temper with you."

"Wouldn't be the first time." Jane shrugged. "You nearly kicked me off the ship once."

"Maybe I should have." Gallant leaned back, rubbing the back of his neck. He shifted his weight. "I don't mean that."

"I know." Jane scoffed. "You wouldn't make it a week without me." She nearly pried the bottle out of Gallant's hand. "Don't be a hog."

"That's hardly a respectful way of speaking to your CO."

"Don't be a hog, _sir_." Jane poured another shot.

"You..." Gallant chuckled under his breath. "You remind me of someone else I knew a long time ago. Someone who never ran out of ways to get under my skin."

"Moira?" Jane contemplated that shot. "I'm not much of a scientist."

"No. I was thinking of Penny Ferguson."

"Who?" Jane frowned. "That nurse you mentioned, right? I'm not much for medicine either."

"She was quite talented in that department. She'd have made a hell of a doctor if the War hadn't interrupted her ascent." Gallant's lips twitched, and his eyes hazed over with memory. "She never let me sink too far into being a dick without giving me a poke in the ribs with something sharp. She was the lifeline keeping me connected with the world."

Jane blinked slowly. "You must miss her."

"More than you know." Gallant leaned on his elbow, using his free hand to massage his chest. Jane watched in silence, still swirling her shot around rather than drinking it.

"I don't suppose I ever thought about what life must be like for you. I've lost a lot, but you've lost...everything."

"Not everything. I have John. I have the War." Gallant reclaimed the bottle for another drink. "War gives man purpose. The more insurmountable the odds, the better. That gives less chance for quiet moments where you have to reckon with what you think you're doing and whether it makes any of it..."

Though a chuckle escaped Jane's lips, it wasn't mirthful. "You can't sleep either, can you, Commander?"

Gallant spent a moment reading the bottle like he didn't know damn well what was in it. "No."

"Moira?"

"Moira. And the others." He glanced at her. "David?"

"David. And..." He could figure it out from there. Jane idly kicked the bar, and the soft thumps of soles on metal were the only sound punctuating the music.

"Oh." Gallant frowned as the song shifted. "That's a blast from the past."

"Huh?" Jane frowned too. "I don't know this one."

He chuckled, humming under his breath for a minute. "Makes me think of high school. Danced to this at Homecoming."

"You don't strike me as much for dancing."

"Yeah, well." Gallant paused to cough. "Getting a shrapnel insertion rearranges a man's priorities. Not to mention..." He leaned down and whacked his gimpy leg. "Life fucks everyone over sooner or later."

"That's truth." Jane tried to keep her mind above water...and failed. "I learned that lesson when Advent killed all my friends around my ears. Some kind of ambush."

"Yeah. I read your file." Gallant shifted on his seat. "It'd be nice if we could get some sleep in before the Forge."

"Wish for the moon while you're at it." Jane picked up her shot glass. "Might as well drink the exhaustion away."

"Major..."

"Hm?" Had he ever looked this conflicted before? Something was off about the way he pursed his lips, off enough Jane had to frown. What had happened to Gallant the conniving, commandeering jackass?

"Do you dance?"

"What?" She blinked. "Um. I mean...not as an adult. Something about ballet when I was like, seven, but that's it."

"I want to." Gallant eased off his stool, leaning on his cane. "I might be shit at it now, but I want to. Sitting still isn't doing me any good." He paused, then looked right at her. "I..."

"Oh." Jane thought for a minute. "Hold on." She threw back her shot. "For courage." Then she left bottle and glass behind, popping lightly up onto her feet. "I guess we can drunken-stumble through something stupid and it might not suck too badly."

"We should embroider that on the flags. Forget _Vigilo Confido_."

"No one gives a shit about Latin anymore." Jane hesitated. Gallant might have been a weedy little man clearly fallen from the peak of his prime, and his hair and stubble might have been out of control and badly-kept, and his voice might have rasped on all the wrong syllables...but the grip of his hand on hers was firm in spite of it.

" _They asked me if I would do a little number..._ " Gallant couldn't move fast, and he leaned on his cane with every step, but he still began strong, and Jane drifted into his wake as he started to arthritically circle the room. " _And I sang with all my might..._ "

Something about this...the deck felt very cold under Jane's toes, and somehow it didn't bother her at all. Hadn't she been chilly a minute ago?

Gallant lifted her hand, and if he froze in place to lean on his cane, she still spun under him. A professional watching would have cried, but it was just...and his voice... " _She said: 'tell me, are you a Christian, child?' And I said–_ "

" _Ma'am, I am tonight!_ " The song was older than Jane, but she knew that much, and it burst unbidden from her lips right as she came back in.

Putting her free hand on his shoulder.

Jane tugged when Gallant stumbled, and he lost his grip on his cane. It didn't matter: he leaned on her instead, and she carried him without a qualm. He really didn't weigh much. Could she pick him up if she wanted? Probably.

The clock beeped out midnight as they danced, shifting back and forth while _Walking in Memphis_ echoed from all corners.

* * *

 **Author's Note 67: But Do I Really Feel The Way I Feel?**

Adopting a kid onto the _Avenger_ is one of those things I've always wondered about happening in the actual game. What does happen to those civvies you rescue? Some have to be underage, right? Are you going to leave them to the kindness/apathy of the local civilians? The _Avenger_ is actually close to the safest place in the world from Advent, so maybe it wouldn't be such a bad one for a kid to grow up.

Scenes involving sex are always a balancing act for me to write. I don't want to feel like I'm writing pure smut, but there are some things that require showing the level of relationship the characters have with each other so I can build off of that for dramatic tension. That said, I have also written pure smut before, and gotten rave reviews on it. The secret to sex scenes is the same as the secret to action scenes: knowing the difference between what _needs_ to be explicitly stated to create a visual in the reader's head, and what needs to be left implied or hinted so that they can fill the blanks in with their own imagination. Among the many other comparisons, both action and sex scenes, on their own, do not advance the plot...they are essentially filler. For most books and even movies, removing the battle scenes would not change the plot in any meaningful way...they're a way to raise tension and increase emotional investment. Sex scenes are the same.

It pays to approach writing as a science _and_ an art. Never lose track of what the point and purpose of a scene is supposed to be. If you can't nail down what it is...odds are, the scene is unnecessary. Even if it isn't, experiment with taking it out of the narrative entirely and look at what would change.

Until next time, _Vigilo Confido_.


	68. The Forge

_Please remember to favorite and follow!_

* * *

 _"We're going down, down, in an earlier round,_

 _And sugar, we're going down swinging!"_

 _~Fall Out Boy, "Sugar We're Going Down Swinging"_

* * *

 **Chapter Sixty-eight: The Forge**

"Alright, assholes!" Firebrand stood in at the hangar bay doors as hydraulics hissed. "Sound off!"

"Menace Six, ready." That was Major Kelly, poised at the head. Pratal Mox waited patiently while Dragunova and Sylvie announced their status.

"Menace Three, ready." He checked his bullpup and its modifications, then his parachute. Something about it felt off, but he'd never used one before, so...

" _Comm check_."

"Roger that, Commander." Did Jane seem a little different? Mox glanced at Dragunova, but she was preoccupied with finishing her cigarette before dropping. Jane inhaled sharply as the bay opened, and wind blasted into the hangar. Liang yelped when it tugged at her hair, and she caught Cameron's arm to keep herself steady.

" _Breach the facility and locate what's happened to the material from Switzerland. Terminate any hostile forces that delay you or attempt to compromise your extraction. There's Resistance forces two clicks north, just inside the Kentucky border. They'll lay false trails and cover your withdrawal up toward Covington, where we'll pick you up tonight._ "

"Affirmative." Mox strode for the lowered bay door. Clouds passed by below: clouds white and fluffy that masked any sight of what might be awaiting on the ground. Mox hesitated.

"It looks like a long way down." That was Liang, a little green around the gills.

"Very." Mox resisted the urge to tug at his collar. "But we have a mission." He cleared his throat. "Ready to...to drop on your order, Commander."

" _Remember, stay tight in the drop. The wind's picking up, and if you don't pay attention, it'll scatter you to the hills. Regroup as soon as you come down and begin infiltrating as quietly as possible_. _You're under comm silence from the moment you jump until things go loud._ " Bradford paused. " _Drop in ten_."

"Sir!" Jane hurried to the edge, and she waved the rest of the team up. Sylvie eyed the empty air distrustfully, and Cameron awkwardly patted her shoulder.

"It's just gravity, dimwits." Firebrand beamed. "I laugh at it all the time."

"You have a plane." Liang couldn't meet her eyes. Mox nodded wordlessly.

" _Eight. Seven. Six_." Bradford counted slowly, but it sounded very fast. Mox glanced at Dragunova again, taking a last drag on her cigarette before flicking it over the edge and yanking her mask and hood into place.

" _Five. Four_."

Mox swallowed. What would they find down there? Had the man he'd once been enjoyed skydiving? Maybe long-forgotten skill would lift him up like a breeze and put him into place.

" _Three._ "

"We're going to die." Liang shivered when Dragunova punched her arm. That answered that.

" _Two_."

"Stand by." Jane double-checked her gun strap. Mox's heart beat vicious, flat, and angry in his chest. This was suicide. This was insanity.

" _One_."

The world hung in limbo: breathless limbo for one abjectly terrifying moment.

It was Gallant who broke it. " _Deploy_."

Skirmishers were many things, but they weren't cowards. Afraid or not, Mox didn't hesitate to fling himself into open air alongside everyone else.

Even if he squeezed his eyes shut when he did it.

His stomach flew into his mouth. The roar of the wind and the engines overpowered everything, echoing all through his world. He had to fight not to curl into a ball and quiver, instead tucking his arms and legs in for speed and diving head-first along with his team for the ground far below. His parachute rattled on his back.

"Whoa!" He punched through a cloud, and it moistened his armor from head to toe. The wind was so loud...Mox's breathing rang in his helmet, but nothing else. His heart wasn't beating like a running chryssalid anymore, but it was still wild and jumpy.

Maybe this wouldn't be–

His parachute strap snapped.

* * *

"Shit. Shit!" Gallant clutched the railing, eyeing the icons of the dropping paratroopers. "Mox's chute is reading a malfunction. Shen!"

"I make mistakes, Commander!" Horror filled her eyes up wide. "Oh no. Oh, no..."

"Movement." A tech highlighted it, and Gallant's eyes narrowed.

"Liang. She's shifting toward him." Slowly, he nodded. "They're doubling up."

"That'll throw them well out of formation with the group. Especially with these winds rising."

"It also keeps Mox alive, John, and I'll take that as a win." Gallant nodded firmly. "Maintain comm silence."

Bradford's lips thinned. "Outrider won't like that."

"Outrider will live with it. Right now, I need her focused on the mission."

"Headwinds are picking up, Commander." Tygan scowled at his computer. "Major Kelly is drifting."

"Perfect." Gallant's heartbeat jumped. "Toward Mox?"

"Away." Shen didn't look happy. "Dragunova, Sylvie, and Cameron are still locked on the original DZ. It doesn't look like they notice."

"Fucking wonderful. Julian?"

" _Calculating_." The AI's face remained, as always, inscrutable. " _Projected trajectories for Major Kelly and the others are complete._ "

"Accuracy?" Oh, those red lines didn't look good.

" _Ninety-four point two percent_."

"Should we warn them, sir?" Bradford reached for his comm. "Jane can still close up with the others."

"No. Maintain comm silence. She's going to come down on the far side of the facility, but it doesn't look like the specs show much in the way of defenses. Hopefully everyone can keep it quiet and regroup at the designated points." Gallant swallowed. "Let's just pray no one else's chute breaks."

* * *

It took every ounce of Jane's self-control not to whoop with wild, childlike glee.

"Yes!" She kept it under her breath–not that it mattered, with the wind as wild as it was–but she couldn't keep from spitting exultation and joy into the breeze. Was this what it felt like to be free? It reminded her of roller coasters in her half-remembered childhood, in the days before Advent and conformity. She wanted to flip head over heels, laughing all the while.

With some effort, she knuckled the urge under. This wasn't 2013, and she wasn't nine years old. She had a mission, and at no point in the briefing had Bradford said anything about spazzing out and backflipping during freefall.

She plunged through the clouds, arms tucked in tight. Below, the Tennessee countryside splayed out like a carpet festooned with LEGO models that resembled Advent structures.

A lot of them.

 _Looks like two main areas, separated by some kind of river. Why do they need the water?_ This wasn't 1600, so power was out unless Advent had gone green and dumped Elerium cells in the crapper in favor of hydroelectricity. A waste disposal system? Why not put in a pipe? If it had been meant for defense, the compound would have sat on the bank with defenses facing into the stream, not crouched across it protectively.

"Aliens are weird." More words no one would ever hear but the God Jane didn't believe in. She craned her neck, trying to get as detailed a look as she could at the main courtyard area off to the left. "Wasn't that the LZ?"

Nothing for it: the wind was pushing her north across the river, and Jane wasn't half skydiver enough to redirect herself.

 _Altitude?_ She glanced to the number displayed on the inside of her contact lens. _Almost_.

Her gaze settled on what very much looked like an anti-air plasma launcher. Sweat, now: if that thing came online and locked onto her, she'd have just enough time to see the green before she boiled alive. How good _were_ Advent's targeting computers? Fatima had sworn that she'd done HALO insertions with the Furies many times, but what if...what if this, if that...

Jane's breath came in short, and she fished for her ripcord, throat very dry. The ground seemed an awful lot bigger than it had a moment earlier. Was this how birds felt when Bradford slammed the _Avenger_ into them?

The altitude number turned green.

"Thank God!" Jane yanked hard, and her parachute exploded out behind her. She yelped, her entire body jerking and twitching in a very vicious way as the canopy caught air. She clutched the strings, feet hanging over open ground that was probably just clear enough that she wouldn't break her legs landing. Great. More things to worry about.

"There we go!" She came down harder than the movies made it look, but she still managed to stay on her feet. The chute didn't topple gently, and Jane hissed a curse when the wind picked up, shoving her a good meter backward. She hit the release, and her parachute blossomed away on a quest for liberty.

Jane had her shard gun out in an instant, and she used it to scour the surround. The perimeter wall was behind her, and the river ahead...

"No hostiles." No one could hear her, and not just because her comm was still silenced. Jane's lips thinned. "And...no friendlies either." She couldn't see any other chutes in the sky. "Did they even land on this side of the water?"

God knew: God and Edward Gallant. Neither was going to speak into her ear at this particular moment.

"Well, Jane, you're on your own." Slowly, she started for the nearest low-slung structure, gun at the ready. "Where _is_ everyone else?"

* * *

"Where are we?" Cameron disconnected his parachute before it could take him home to Canada, and he quickly scanned the surrounding area, rifle at the ready. "Low walls...a couple buildings..."

"I think we landed in the actual DZ." Sylvie, a hand on her amp, held position at his right side. She bit her lip. "I do not see Major Kelly, or Mox."

"Or Liang." Cameron stifled a surge of sudden worry. "Or–"

"I see you, so that's close enough."

"Outrider!" Cameron lowered his rifle as she seemed to materialize from the undergrowth. "That's a relief. We're at fifty percent strength."

"Better than twelve percent, at least." Sylvie studied the river line, and then the buildings along its shore. "I believe that is the administrative complex on the far bank."

"Probably." Cameron frowned. "I don't see any other parachutes. I hope the others are around here somewhere."

"Nothing for it." Dragunova checked her temnotic rifle, then waved the others into line behind her. "We'll work our way outward from here, looking for anyone who came down in the vicinity. Mox won't be far. Then we'll–"

Cameron saw it first.

"Get down!" He seized Dragunova and hauled her into the dirt midstride. She swore–and then boiling plasma ripped through the air right where her head had been.

"Mutons!" Then Sylvie yelped and ducked for cover, arms over her head. Emerald energy bolts slammed into the ground and the greenery, igniting bushes and trails of grass and leaving the charred reek of boiled elerium in the air behind them.

"I suppose I owe you twice now." And then Dragunova scrambled up, and by the time Cameron could get to his hands and knees, she'd vanished like a ghost.

"Mutons?" He popped his head up, drawing his sidearm. He took a potshot at the first flash of motion from the other end of the main yard, and an alien bellow was his reward. Yes, those were mutons: at least two of them, possibly three, along with some troopers and–

" _Fuck!_ " Cameron flung himself away as a berserker lunged straight through a tree and at his position, big meaty fists falling like meteor strikes. The earth shook, and he scrambled backward, trying to avoid blows that would have crunched him inside and out alike. He fired one-handed, pouring red mag-rounds into the berserker's exposed muscle tissue until his pistol clicked dry.

The beast just roared.

"Back off!" Sylvie shot her hand out, and purple like her eyes shot out in a lance. The berserker staggered, clutching its head and its boiled, charred skin, howling so loud Cameron wished to cover his ears. Unfortunately, he needed both hands to reload, and he raced to finish the chore with shaking fingers before the alien could pulverize him for good this time–

 _Bang!_

"...I guess we're even." Cameron sprang to his feet almost before the berserker had finished collapsing, a hole neatly drilled in its eye. He glanced back down the tracer's path, but he couldn't even seen Dragunova.

But...

"Great!" Cameron brought his rifle up, and his first shot popped the head off of a stun lancer running up from behind. "Sylvie!"

" _Merde!_ " And her rifle came out, spitting tracers that forced the rest of the infantry rush to dive for cover. Cameron pressed himself up against a towering security pole, wincing when muton rounds ate chunks out of it from one side, and scattered mag-projectiles came in from the other.

"Fucking...lovely." He clutched his rifle with white knuckles. "I hope the others are having better luck."

* * *

General Din Dourde, helmet under her arm, hurried through the Forge hallways as soldiers rushed out, grabbing guns from the racks along the walls. She paused to claim one herself, purely as a precaution.

"Sir!" She hit the access switch to the Hunter's chambers. "Sir, we're under attack."

" _Well, get out from under the damn thing, then_." He paused to growl some unkind human epitaphs. " _This old motion sensing technology was terrible! The music is catchy, but I just can't get the moves right_."

"Um." Dourde knew better than to ask what on earth he was talking about. "Sir, it appears XCOM dissidents have landed in the main parade ground. There's a firefight in progress."

" _Tell me, General: what does protocol dictate?_ "

"We..." Instinctive, her knowledge of that: she was just uncertain how he'd react. "Protocol is to dispatch the garrison immediately to contain the threat."

" _Isolate them with local elements. Reinforce the manufacturing floor with anyone you can get your hands on. This is a diversion while another team sneaks inside._ " The Hunter scowled. " _Wait. The local officers didn't wait for orders, did they?_ "

"No, sir. Every unit on its feet is rushing for the parade ground."

" _Those sons of bitches_." The Hunter removed the white controller's strap from his wrist.

The way he laid it down was somehow very threatening.

" _Fine_." He reached over his shoulder, and out came the Darklance. " _See to the battle outside, General: I'll protect the Clean Room myself_."

* * *

"Oof!"

"Ow!" Liang kept her feet, but Mox crashed on his back, hissing through his teeth. He rubbed his head, stomach still whirling and churning.

"That...was not a perfect deployment." He hit the release on his grapnel, and it disconnected from Liang's armor. She paused to release her parachute, while Mox threw what was left of his into the river. "I am not pleased by Chief Shen's work."

"Take it up with her." Liang adjusted her black face wrappings, hoisting up her mag-cannon. "Where the hell is everyone else?"

"I..." Mox frowned. "I don't see them." He studied the large black building ahead, crouched protectively like an angry shell. "That must be the Forge's main building."

"Fits with the specs." Liang spared a glance left, then right. "I swear I hear gunfire."

"I..." Mox frowned, straining his ears. "I believe I hear it too. I cannot tell where it is coming from."

"God." Liang's eyes glinted with something like fear. "I hope Cameron doesn't do anything stupid."

"Yes." It wasn't the sharpshooter Mox thought of. He checked his heavily modified bullpup, then started forward. "Come. Someone inside will know where this fight is raging."

Apparently that made enough sense for her, because the Grenadier took up position at Mox's flank. Together, they scurried across the open ground and over to the low fencing protecting the compound's pathways. No APCs or hovertanks cruised past, so Mox darted over to the wall, followed a moment later by his still-human companion.

"Door." Liang took point, settling in on the right side of the first little white entryway they found. Mox took the left, scanning over Liang's shoulder and half-expecting vipers or sectoids to come rushing out at any moment.

"Go!" Liang hit the access, and Mox burst in, gun up.

He froze in the doorway.

Red lights. Red lights, and red wall panels on black and gray, each one lined with pods marked with Elder sigils. Control panels sat empty while an alarm blared, calling all personnel to safety bunkers.

"Mox?"

Two hallways shot away from the main room, each one eternal and lean. So many pods...black metal decking, marred with the odd alien footprint in dust and dirt. The halls curved at the end, joining well out of Mox's sight.

He knew that, after all. He'd been here before.

"This is...this place..."

"Mox, move!" Liang shouldered him aside, gun at the ready as she scanned the room. "Clear. What's the matter with you?"

"I was...this is where I..." Mox took a hesitant step, reaching out for one of the pods. "I was changed here."

"Changed?" Liang frowned. "This is a genetic enhancement facility, then."

"It must be." Mox shook his head, trying to clear his thoughts. "The terminal."

"Got it." Liang quickly accessed the computer, bypassing the encryption with a quick and dirty slicer chip. Mox waited impatiently while she typed. "Schematics are showing something called the Clean Room, back down those corridors. It's got the highest level security clearance."

"Sounds like a plan." Mox started that way, going slow until Liang could catch up. "Did you pull the access code?"

"No, but I have a key." She produced it, too, and dropped it into her launcher. "Clear up."

 _Chuff!_ A moment later, the plasma grenade clattered down against the wall, presumably in the right spot. Mox ducked behind a desk.

 _Ka-boom!_

" _Donut?_ " Two voices at once, one panicky and the other confused. Mox popped up, and his laser sight picked through the smoke of the plasma detonation to find first the trooper staggering amidst a white, surgically clean backdrop.

He squeezed the trigger.

"And you!" Liang's mag-cannon went off, and a white MEC staggered under the heavy assault of EMP-cored Bluescreen munitions. Its arm went dead, then its leg, and when it collapsed, its head burst with an electrical pulse that scorched the floor for half a meter in all directions. Liang released the trigger only when the thing's micro-missile launcher fell off, dumping its warheads to roll merrily around the room.

" _Mor balaten!_ " A stun lancer vaulted through the hole in the wall, baton out...and yelped when Mox caught it with his grapple.

" _Get over here!_ " He yanked the soldier hard, snapping his ripjack forward to drive into his chest. Electricity arced, making the puppet thrash. Whether wrist blades had cut his heart in half or the pulse had stopped it, either way, he crumpled.

"Scorpion main, huh?" Liang paused to reload.

"Honestly, I am partial to Raiden. But the opportunity was too good to pass up."

"God, we're bringing your humanity back, one pop culture reference at a time." Liang's cheeks broadened under her wrappings.

Together, they entered the Clean Room, weapons still at the ready in case someone was playing dead. Mox kicked the trooper's corpse, but that got no reaction. Not inclined to take chances, he picked her head up and used his ripjack to cut her throat. Liang paused to fish the MEC's CPU out and crunch it under her heel.

"What is..." Mox passed rows of computer equipment, festooned with genetic sampling information and jars full of Advent chips. He barely noticed when his ripjack blades brushed against one, flicking it onto the floor hard enough it shattered. Chips scattered across the plating below his feet.

"Canisters. Pods." Liang hesitated behind him. "You all right, Mox?"

"I do not..." He bypassed the large white pod in the center of the room, slowly crossing to one of the row of darker ones in the back. "Something about this place is very familiar."

"You said you were changed here."

"Here. Right here." Mox glanced over his shoulder, and the view did indeed line up with his memory. He reached out, fingers gently brushing the firm alloy plate. "I must have come here after enlisting with–"

The pod hissed. Mox froze when it slid open from both sides, nearly silent. Inside was a glass tube.

And inside that...

"What in the fucking world..." Liang nearly dropped her gun. "That's...that's..."

"That is..." For the first time in his life, logic failed Mox. He could only stare, rippling with dawning comprehension that turned his stomach. "That is an Advent soldier. Half of one."

"Those nanobots." Liang's cheeks must have turned very green, if Mox could see a tint of its reflection in the exposed skin around her eyes. "They're tearing her apart."

"No." It couldn't be...but it all made sense. Everything made sense now.

"They're not taking her apart." Mox touched the glass again, and the reflection of his helmet fell over the half-completed soldier's head. "They're _manufacturing_ her."

"Wait." Liang sucked in a long breath. "Oh, God. No wonder they just...they just keep coming..."

"Manufactured." Mox couldn't breath. "I was never...I was never human..."

Built. Built and assembled like the tool he was, from the requisite parts...he'd always known he was a puppet before his liberation, but how literal that metaphor truly was...

He didn't even hear the bang: just Liang crying out.

"What?" Slow, his turn. Shock still boiled in his system. "Lieutenant!" He started for her, where she slumped over the desks by the white pod, eyes glazed. "What happened–"

" _I did_." Mox froze when a dark shape emerged from the shadows, purple eyes full of malice and a pistol leveled in one hand. " _So, now you know the truth. Tell me...does it make you feel better?_ "

* * *

"Eat this!" Cameron threw, and he'd always had an excellent throwing arm. The plasma grenade whirled through the air, coming down hard in the Advent infantry's midst. They shouted and scrambled for cover, and Cameron ducked with hands over his head.

 _Boom! Boom!_ It wasn't just the grenade, no: he'd chosen his target carefully. The purifier next to the blast went up too, and the combined force detonated some Advent bigwig's car. Shrapnel flew in a massive swarm, cutting through dozens of unlucky foot soldiers and flinging them six ways from Sunday. Cameron brought his rifle up, and he picked two off when they exposed themselves at the wrong moment.

" _Va te faire cuire le cul!_ " Whatever that meant, Sylvie was emphatic about it. She shrieked, unloading all her amp's power into her palm like it was going out of style and then pitching it in much the same fashion as Cameron's grenade. Violet energy spiraled in a helix of hate, vortexing over the mutons and their minions on the far end of the courtyard.

"Shit!" Cameron covered his head when the vortex imploded, and Sylvie's eyes seared again. Purple tendrils shot from her hand like puppet-strings, burrowing into the ears of her unfortunate victims. They screamed, clutching their temples as their eyes turned indigo and their movements jerky, and Cameron nearly whooped. "That's what I'm talking about, Paris!"

"I am from _Nice!_ " The veins in her face glowed and pulsed purple, and when she brought her otherworldly, almost Warlock-esque glare to bear on Cameron, he nearly quailed. "Not Paris!"

"Okay!" He threw his hands up, while her captured thralls turned on the rest of the Advent garrison, turning the flanking engagement into a wild civil war. "Sorry! Don't void rift me!"

"Incoming!" Dragunova appeared for only a moment, firing from her position in a guard tower. Could she fly? Cameron hadn't seen her clamber up, but there she was anyway. "Big incoming!"

"Big?" Cameron ducked behind the still-growling corpse of the berserker. "Another one of these?" He checked his rifle. "We can take her."

"It could be bigger." Sylvie paused to fire a burst, and an alien screamed almost piteously.

"Bigger? Bigger than a berserker?" Cameron scoffed. "They don't _get_ bigger than–"

The river burst upward, and brown water sprayed over the battlefield, Sylvie yelped, and Cameron ducked behind an overturned car for better protection.

"...oh." His eyes fixed on the cause of the disturbance: an enormous tanklike cube, emblazoned with Advent sigils and festooned with nasty-looking cannons. It all glowed red with hateful power lines, even as water fell in enormous sheets from its joints and armor plate, raining back into the river and over the bank, turning the sand to mush that its massive three-toed feet crushed with every step.

And that was before the sectopod rose to its full towering height, opening its chest cavity to reveal a charged red energy cannon.

"...fuck." Cameron inhaled as it turned to bear right on him. " _Fuck_."

* * *

Something was going on over on the other side of the river. What it was, Jane didn't know. It sounded nasty.

"First things first." She scanned the hallway she found herself in, gun at the ready. "Which building is this? I need a map."

Nothing so far had helped. No one was around, except for a pair of troopers she'd caught from behind and dealt with in true XCOM fashion. Everything was written in alien wingdings. If only Mox had come down with her...then again, no one could fight like Mox. If things were going to shit on the far bank, there was no one Jane trusted to take care of her team more, except maybe Dragunova. Lucky her, she could count on both.

The lighting was terrible. It was as if whoever was in here was afraid to draw attention from anyone out and about. She'd had to click the light strapped to her shard gun on several minutes ago, and if that didn't say a lot, she didn't know what would.

Alarms blared faintly, and Jane supposed some of the stairs she'd ignored lead down to VIP bunkers. Certainly the facility staff had to be somewhere, and the odds of the infiltration hitting on the same day as the Annual Advent Taco Fiesta were low.

Her footfalls echoed in the still hallways. Sweat trickled down Jane's cheek. This was fuel for paranoia: terrible lights, no sound but her own breathing...was that the Assassin, lurking behind that corner? No, it was just a statue of an Elder. The Hunter, lunging from the darkness? No, that was just a door sliding closed. There was no one here but...

...but her and whoever had just closed that door.

Jane hurried over. She checked her shard gun, checked her cap, checked that her sword was loose in its sheath...

She wished, for a long moment, for David to be standing on the other side of the door, mag-cannon ready to cover her as she dived in. Her heart twinged painfully.

Jane elbowed the door panel, and it hissed open.

No one shouted anything about donuts or butts. No one said a word, as a matter of fact. Wary, Jane pushed inside, turning the pool of light projecting from her gun around the room. It revealed a computer, and she started that way, continuing to scan over a holoboard, some old-fashioned books on a shelf, sheafs of paperwork–

"Oh." Her stomach knotted as the light turned onto a figure, trying to melt back into the darkest corners of the office. But it wasn't fear that twisted her up; not terror that made her grip on the gun tighten and her teeth grind softly together. "Well, well. Long time, no see...Doctor Kipler."

* * *

 **Author's Note 68: Soylent Green is** _ **Advent**_ **!?**

I'm surprised that I've never heard any dialogue line from Betos about the Forge. Granted, I don't spend a lot of time chilling in the _Avenger_ , so maybe it exists and I missed it, but I would think the truth about the Skirmisher's creation would be an immense whammy. Yes, I took that bit of symbolism with Mox's helmet from Arkham Knight. Writing is theft, and never think anything else: take what's good, make your own mark on it, and never look back or feel guilty.

Also, just three words: TACTICAL LEGACY PACK. My body is ready. I hope those interquel missions don't clash too harshly with my backstory...

Until then, _Vigilo Confido_.


	69. Cold Truths

_Please remember to favorite and follow!_

* * *

 _"Everyone's chasing, that holy feeling,_

 _And if we don't stay lit, we'll blow out..."_

 _~P!nk, Beautiful Trauma_

* * *

 **Chapter Sixty-nine: Cold Truths**

"What have you done to her?" Mox didn't dare reach for his bullpup, not with the Hunter's pistol pointed right between his eyes. He raised his hands to shoulder-level. "Liang!"

" _She'll be fine. It's just a tranquilizer_." The Hunter shrugged. " _Believe it or not, casual murder isn't my thing. There's no sport in it._ "

"You killed Mariah." Mox narrowed his eyes. "Mercy seems out of character for you."

Something flickered over the Hunter's face. " _There's no sport in throwing meat to the beasts either_." He huffed, shifting his weight. " _I didn't do it for her_."

Mox frowned. Something about his attitude... "You do not have to answer to Angelis. You need only look at me for proof."

" _Ha!_ " The Hunter rolled his eyes. " _I'm not some sycophantic Skirmisher in the wings, deserter. What binds me to Angelis is deeper and more intense than some neural chip as with you. She's my mother._ " His lip curled. " _As if you would understand what that means_."

"You..." Mox tried very hard not to think about what was behind him. He didn't succeed: that white pod sat right beside the Hunter and directly in his field of vision, and the thought of what could be in it...

He did his best to rally himself. "Angelis is a false goddess and a liar. She will use you to your fullest potential and discard you when she no longer requires you. You are a pet, not a son."

" _Of course._ " His pointed teeth glinted in the light. " _But she's not as smart as she thinks she is. If you didn't agree, you wouldn't be here_."

"You have the chance to–"

" _I have the chance to make this world mine, and who knows what comes then?_ " He chuckled. " _Maybe I'll turn it into a game reserve. Import species from across the universe and test myself against them at my leisure..._ "

Liang was still on the ground, clutching at her neck and moaning. Whatever the Hunter had put in her system, it was strong. Mox fought the urge to rush to her side.

" _But for now?_ " The Hunter's attention returned, and his smile broadened. " _For now, I have a job to do. It was a good effort, but I'm the best there is._ "

"Our Commander would beg to differ."

" _Your Commander is a cripple and a fool. I am neither_." Anger roiled in the Hunter's voice, building with every syllable. " _He lost a war with the resources of an entire planet behind him! I am winning this one with nothing but my rifle and_ –"

Mox fired his grapple, and it latched onto the Hunter's shoulder. He yanked, hauling his enemy off-balance. The revolver in the Hunter's hand went off, and its shot plowed into the alloy wall and right through, arcing away toward the far horizon. Mox lunged, ripjack out, and he slashed high–

The pistol's muzzle appeared between his eyes.

 _Boom!_

* * *

"Nothing to say?" Jane kept her shard gun trained on Matthew Kipler, where he seemed intent on trying to melt into the corner of his darkened office. He winced, turning his eyes away from her attached torch's glow. "And here I thought we were both in the officer's club."

"It would be you, wouldn't it?" Finally, he pushed off from the wall, raising his hands very reasonably. "Hello, Captain Kelly."

Jane's finger tightened on the trigger. " _Major_."

"Oh, you've been promoted." Kipler smiled, surprisingly genially. "Congratulations, then. May I pour you a drink?"

"What's on your computer?"

"Files."

"This facility?"

"I'm sure the rest of your team will find out."

"You're not giving me an incentive to leave you alive."

Kipler chuckled. "Is there really any chance of that?"

"Maybe..." Jane ground her teeth. "You're a traitor."

"To what? A band of renegade outlaws? Terrorists ripping apart the peaceful fabric of the world that is in the name of an ideological dream that will never exist again?"

"Advent is a lie!" Jane scowled. "Your precious peaceful world order abducts innocents and liquidates them in the name of Angelis' twisted visions."

"Major...Jane..." Kipler sighed. "Things are not perfect. They never will be perfect. This world you cling to like a child with her teddy bear was a raucous, twisted place full of violence and anarchy, riven by sexism, racial disdain, and greed. Advent has its downsides, but the world enjoys peace and prosperity unlike anything before in human history."

"But it lacks freedom."

"What would you do with it if you had it?" Kipler looked nonplussed. "The Elders put an end to an era you were too young to remember the sins of. There was order, stability, peace...until Gallant betrayed the Elders, turning on them with his army of floating renegades like you. He sacrificed Mariah easily enough. It'll be your turn soon."

"Don't you dare speak her name!" Later, Jane would wish she'd given in to her red vision and pulled the trigger then and there.

"Jane, Advent is not your enemy. They are this world's true guardians."

"Switzerland." She hissed through her teeth.

"Sometimes, sacrifices must be made for the security of the many."

"That's not what I believe. That's not what any of us believe. You've sold out, Doctor."

"Advent won the war. What, pray tell, would you have expected me to do? I am not a military man. I have a realistic understanding of what is what."

"You're a coward, bending the knee to the occupiers in as dramatic a fashion as Petain ever did in Vichy." Even in the charged moment, Jane relished a little spark of pride: that was humanity's true history, and she knew enough to invoke it. That, in and of itself, was a shot across the Elders' bow. "You should have taken up arms for your people, like Tygan, or Shen, or Bradford. Like James and Irina and the rest of my friends."

"The ones who died in Ireland?" Something glittered in Kipler's eyes: something Jane didn't like at all.

"Murdered. By your precious Advent." Jane's lip curled. "I don't care that you weren't involved. This is vengeance for–"

"Do you want to know who killed your friends?"

Jane's breath caught. "You...you don't..."

"I know exactly what happened." That was victory in his smug, self-satisfied voice, but Jane couldn't muster enough to be angry. Not compared to... "I know on whose shoulders their blood is stained."

Jane nearly shoved her shard gun into his face. "Who? Give me a name!"

"A very high-ranking Advent officer. One of their greatest soldiers: responsible for more human carnage and suffering than a dozen lesser commanders put together."

"I didn't ask for a fucking editorial." Whatever she said, her mind pinballed between Hunter and Assassin for a long minute. She couldn't decide. What if he said it was Mox? That didn't make sense. That would be a lie. It would have to be. "I asked for a name."

"Angelis' right hand. Her secret weapon, without whom her conquest of Earth and the formation of Advent would have been impossible. Without whom, the Old World would have stood a chance of defeating the Elders' minions in the scattered rebellions of the 2020s."

"A name!" Jane's voice echoed from the far corners, bounding and rebounding off harsh walls. "Give me a bloody name, you son of a bitch!"

Kipler's eyes glittered again: so sinisterly that Jane hesitated. His lips twitched.

"Edward Gallant."

* * *

"Open channels." Edward Gallant watched the icons on the holodisplay, each one flickering in and out as data popped up in small batches from stealth transmissions. "Things have already gone loud. We need to coordinate our forces."

"Sir." Shen bent over her comm station, and she quickly typed both human and alien characters on the display. After a moment, she gave him a thumb's up.

"Menace, this is _Avenger_." Gallant shifted his weight, muttering unkindness about the powers that be and codenames. "You have been compromised. I repeat–"

" _No shit, sir!_ " Cameron's icon dove out of the way as the sectopod emerging from the river unloaded from its top-mounted anti-personnel cannon, spraying the dirt and trees with hot mag-rounds. " _We've got armor pushing in from the water line and infantry holed up landward. We're caught in a fucking crossfire–_ "

"Pull yourself together, Moose!" Bradford slammed a fist on the railing. "We're working on it!"

"The aliens used those to defeat most of Earth's conventional forces." Shen glared at the sectopod's icon. "It chews through armor and infantry alike, and its plating is too thick for us to take head-on."

"Julian?" Gallant leaned hard on his cane.

" _This unit appears more advanced than the one I maintained in the tower_." The AI spent a moment presumably running calculations. " _It is possible Menace might be able to damage the armored unit's sensors and stall it, but there is little chance anything short of heavy weapons will shred its plate_."

"Understood. We need Liang, then." Gallant nodded to Bradford, and the XO took up the task of managing the courtyard battle for a minute. While Cameron, Sylvie, and Dragunova sprinted and dove for cover under Advent mag-fire, Gallant's attention went elsewhere. "Mox? Liang?"

" _Fuck!_ " That was Sylvie, and her icon nearly cannonballed into the river as the sectopod burst, unleashing a titanic red wave that ripped a huge trough through the earth. Grass ignited on all sides, metal slagged and flew in shrapnel-shards and lava trails, and vehicles caught by the shot exploded, adding to the carnage. The Advent infantry let out a ragged cheer...and Dragunova shot one while he was distracted.

"Mox?" Gallant glared at the distorted icons in the facility, just a short distance from the fight. "Dammit, Mox! Are you dead?" He bit his lip. "Somebody talk to me!"

* * *

Mox cried out as the Hunter's shot went into his bicep, punching right through his armor and out the other side of his arm. It hurt, and it bled...but it was only a flesh wound, and his arm still responded when he flung his ripjack forward, driving the blades into the Hunter's forearm and shoving his gun out of the way.

" _You are irritatingly competent!_ " The Hunter blocked when Mox swung with his bullpup, and caught the gun by the muzzle when Mox leveled it one-handed. He hit the trigger, but the Hunter shoved the gun off to the side. Hot orange mag-rounds raced out, hitting the walls and ricocheting around the room before punching into pods and storage containers, shattering computers and data storage systems.

Magnetic gun-flashes brightened the room, reflecting in the Hunter's eyes.

" _I can't help but feel like we've done this before_." His foot flashed out, driving hard into Mox's chest, and the blow was harsh enough his bullpup strap snapped rather than bring the gun with him. He hit the white pod hard enough it dented and beeped angrily, and the world tilted crazily as he slid to the ground.

His ribs were on fire. There was no foot-shaped indentation in his armor, for which Mox thanked whatever gods were real, but he still struggled to rise.

" _Oh, right! We have!_ " Something cracked dangerously, and Mox shoved up to his feet–

Something sharp drove into the base of his neck, right at the joint between armor and helmet. He ground to a halt, ripjack half-up.

Everything...was suddenly very hazy...

" _Korea, was it?_ " The Hunter lazily holstered his pistol as Mox collapsed hard on his side. Mox clawed at the floor, but everything was spinning, and his limbs were lead, and...and, and... " _Or China? I can never keep them straight_." The Hunter knelt over him, clucking his tongue. " _You were lucky, traitor. Lucky that little Mariah was too stupid to know better than to blow up her own teammates._ "

"Go...to..." Mox pointed between the Hunter's eyes, even if it cost him all his strength. The Chosen laughed.

" _I admire your bravery, but defiance will win you no favors_." His hand glowed purple, and he reached for Mox's forehead. " _Let's see what you know about_ –"

Mox fired his grapnel line.

" _What in–_ " That was all the Hunter got out before the line wrapped around his neck like a noose, and Mox hauled for all he was worth. The Hunter flailed, clutching at the cable.

" _You..._ " He choked, but his grip was strong and Mox was weak. He yanked hard enough Mox shifted six inches, and that gave him the clearance he needed to suck in a breath. " _I'm actually impressed. No one has ever done that before_." His lip curled. " _No one shall ever do that again_ –"

Something bounced off the back of his head. The Hunter paused. Mox hit the release on his grapnel, rolling as far away as he could.

The incindiary grenade blew up in a titanic blast of blue-tinged flame, scouring the floor and the walls and setting into the Hunter's clothes. He shrieked, beating at himself as his purple skin blackened and charred. He staggered out of the fire, howling as his hood burned like a beacon.

Da-Xia Liang's mag-cannon went off at point-blank range, even as Mox tried to find the dart embedded in his neck. Yellow gore sprayed his armor, and the Hunter's screaming abruptly stopped. Did he look surprised?

He exploded into purple mist, and his equipment too. It vanished with something like a pop, nearly obscured by the fire, and Mox let his head thump back down onto the floor.

"Get up!" Liang knelt over him, and she ripped the dart out in an instant. Mox gasped for air. "I said up, you idiot! There will be more of them." She shoved his bullpup back into his grip.

"Right. You are right." Clarity came back in drenching waves. Mox accepted Liang's hand when she offered it. "I owe you a debt."

"You saved my tail a good bit in Novosibirsk."

"You came to rescue me in India. We were already even." Mox checked his arm. "It bleeds, but it is not an impairment."

"Good." Liang carefully circled the pool of fire still crackling on the pristine floor. She frowned, then keyed her comm. "Commander?"

"What?" Mox checked his comm. "Oh." He flicked it to the on position. "Commander. We are alive."

" _Thanks for the information._ " Mox could almost hear his scowl. " _Cameron, Sylvie, and Dragunova are caught up in a firefight with a sectopod in the main courtyard. They need backup_."

"We are on our way." Mox nodded firmly. He started for the door.

"One minute." Liang hurried to the white canister. "Data files mentioned something about a _Specimen Thirteen_ stored in this room. I'm guessing it's in here."

" _Make it quick_." Gallant didn't sound happy. " _Things are going to shit, and Kelly's not responding_."

"Understood." Liang grabbed the release switch, and she tugged. Mox waited, ready in case soldiers poured in.

The pod opened.

" _What the..._ " Bradford sucked in breath as it finished sliding out, and a large, bulky shape slumped in containment. It had no hands, no feet, no identifying features of any kind...everything was wrapped in some kind of armored suit, concealing it from head to toe in drab gray. " _That's just...just like the one we found the Commander in_ –"

" _Be careful!_ " Tygan's voice overrode everything else, and Mox lunged as the shape slipped and tumbled. He caught one arm and Liang the other, and they fought to keep it from hitting the floor head-first. " _Preserve the specimen at all costs! It could be critical to our understanding of this place's function_."

" _Am I to understand you want Menace to bring it back?_ " Gallant sounded a bit bemused. " _We collect the best souvenirs_..."

"As you wish." Mox tugged, and he pulled the clunky suit over onto his shoulder. Liang helped him ease it into position and settle the weight. Either the suit was very heavy or what was inside was a lot denser than it looked, because he struggled to stay on his feet with it slung over his shoulder.

" _Excellent_." Gallant was back to business now, and Mox hoped that meant things weren't going too badly for Dragunova and the others. " _Move toward the courtyard. Mox, stay back and keep the package out of the line of fire. Central will notify local elements of your impending extraction._ " He hesitated. " _Major Kelly, where the hell are you?_ "

* * *

"You're lying." Jane glared at Kipler, again tempted to blow him apart and go hunting for a beer. "Gallant fought the aliens to the end."

"You were there when Bradford found him in Paris. Did he look like he was fighting them?" Kipler raised an eyebrow.

"He was a prisoner."

"A prisoner they kept alive for twenty years, in stasis?" Kipler shook his head. "The greatest enemy they've ever fought? The one who nearly unseated their entire invasion and who was humanity's last, best hope of fighting back? They liquidated his family and everyone else who would dare challenge them, Jane: you know this better than most. Why keep a man so dangerous to their ends alive...unless they were making use of him?"

"They...they could..." That made sense. That made all too much sense. "...no. No!" She swallowed on a dry throat. "You're lying. You're fucking lying like the fucker you are! Trying to drive wedges between us, and I won't...I can't..."

"Advent forces utilize a psionic network. I was privy to this when I was in Gallant's counsel. Richard can confirm that for you, if you don't believe me. This network was structured around Paris, and its function as a military communications hub. The nerve center, if you will, of their entire command structure. And at the highest level of their authority..."

"Stop...stop lying to me..." James...Obsidian...Irina wasn't dead, but her prosthetic arm and leg and her scars and...

"Don't take my word for it. Have you bothered to read Commander Gallant's file? Do you even have access to it?" Kipler waited politely, but when Jane couldn't muster a response, he laughed softly. "It's all there, on your precious ship. I'm not telling you anything you can't verify on your own. Why do you think you've been so successful against Advent since Gallant joined the Resistance?"

"He's a good commander."

"Many of your successes have come without his intervention. In more ways than one: Advent's forces have lost their tactical edge, haven't they? They were far more dangerous and capable in Ireland than these last few months."

"They..." This made too much sense.

He was lying. It was all lies, it had to be. The Commander wouldn't...he couldn't...

" _Major Kelly, where the hell are you?_ " That was him, faintly in her ear. Jane didn't reach for her comm. In fact, she lowered her shard gun just a bit, contemplating the end of it very seriously.

"You're a pawn to him, Jane. No different than how Angelis views one of her grunts." Kipler clucked his tongue. "He destroyed your world, and he's never had the courage to own up to it. What does that say about him?"

"It...it doesn't..."

Faintly, explosions rang through the halls. They echoed off the dark places in the room and Jane's soul, rebounding inside her consciousness.

" _Jane?_ " His rasping voice, right in her ear. Had he really...could he have... " _Tell me nothing's gone to shit, Kelly._ "

"He is the reason your world ended in fire." Kipler inhaled. "Bear that in mind."

"I...I will." Jane couldn't...she could barely think... "Good-bye, Doctor."

"I knew you'd see reason." He beamed. "We'll meet again–"

 _Blam!_

Even with everything above his waist and below his neck disintegrated into red mist, Kipler's severed head was still smiling long after it hit the floor.

* * *

"Get down!" Cameron tackled Sylvie, and they crashed behind a patch of rubble flung up from something exploding with a lot more violence than it should have. An instant later, mag-rounds stitched the ground around them, flinging dirt and dust and chaotic sprays of angry metal rent from the barricade by stuttering impacts. Something hot trickled down Cameron's cheek, and he wiped it away, cursing the stupid river.

His hand came away red. Oh. It hadn't even hurt.

"Get off me!" Sylvie scrambled out from under him, and she fired on full auto, unloading her entire clip in one titanic burst of magnetic acceleration. Cameron swore, popping up with rifle at the ready.

"You're not going to get through its armor!" He sighted in, and his scope brought him eye-to-eye with the sectopod's glowing red frontal exhaust port. "That thing could probably take a hit from a plasma cannon–"

"Do something, then!" Sylvie discarded her empty mag, skittering away for the next patch of cover. Without reaching for her amp, she flicked her hand sharply, and an Adventer sneaking through the bushes choked, rising into the air and clutching his throat until Sylvie twisted his head a hundred and eighty degrees and chucked his corpse under the sectopod's foot.

"...you're welcome. Buy me a drink?" Cameron muttered under his breath for a minute. "God have mercy on poor Julie, that's all I have to say."

The sectopod fired again, but not at Cameron. Its upper cannon blazed, shattering laser-reinforced windows and punching holes in alloy walls. What was over there on the compound for it to try and suppress? Cameron lined up a shot on the exhaust port, biting his tongue.

"Right. One for the money..." He breathed out, concentrating like never before. "Use the Force, Moose."

His shot went out with a flat bang, and it arced over the field and straight into the sectopod's red orifice, plunging in and–

 _Bang!_ The robotic monster staggered, sparks and smoke flying as something inside protested the hit most strenuously. Cameron worked the bolt, cheering himself hoarse.

The sectopod's chest cavity opened, and red light filled his vision.

"Son of a–"

He barely dove for freedom in time as the wrath cannon let loose with a bass _thrum_ that could have been heard in Manitoba, unleashing a titanic blast of superheated plasma energy that slagged metal and rent a furrow the size of a car in the dirt. Heat wafted out in a tremendous blast of overpressure, turning Cameron's hair to sweat and scorching his already-lacerated face. He covered it, rifle forgotten as he scrambled away from the impact point.

"-bitch!" He rolled to the side as the trail of death followed him, igniting the grass and rocking the earth with its power. The sectopod's upper body turned, camera still tracking on him as he scrambled to his feet, racing to stay away from Judgment delivered via machine. The beam tracked over a car and the vehicle detonated, flinging a tire that came within an inch of crushing Cameron's head.

A hubcap–from the same tire? He couldn't tell–slammed into his chest, pitching him onto his back again. Cameron hit the ground hard, and his head cracked on something harder, and the world went red for a flash. He patted at his hair, and his hand again came away bloodstained.

More red. This wasn't behind his eyes: the wrath cannon kept coming, and he sucked in breath. There was no time to roll away, to scramble up...there was only time to throw his hands up uselessly and turn his head–

 _Crack!_

"Outrider!" Cameron would have kissed her if he hadn't been so scared of her. He threw himself aside, covering his head as the cannon roared through the dirt where he'd been a second prior...and kept going.

It didn't matter how powerful the weapon was if the sectopod's optical sensor was a shattered wreck, after all.

"Hit it now!" Dragunova hurled her claymore, and it latched onto the bottom armor plate. Cameron scrambled for his sidearm, aware of how pitifully useless it was but–

The orange charge hit the claymore dead on, and fire blossomed out in a tremendous cloud of light and hate. Cameron yelped when hands caught him, hauling him behind cover in the nick of time: fire lashed the earth where he'd lain, and shrapnel with it.

"Liang!" He wasn't scared to kiss her, and he did. "God, you missed the party."

"Later." She extricated herself, though not abruptly, and leaned out to unload most of her cannon in one burst. Bluescreen munitions lit up the ash and smoke cloud hanging over the far end of the courtyard, sparking off shredded and melted armor plate and plunging into metal to detonate with miniature EMP blasts once inside. The sectopod made a hideously pathetic noise.

Another blast resounded from the chaos, and the earth shook.

"Damn glad to see you." Cameron pushed himself upright, brushing dirt and dust off his armor. "Where the hell have you been?"

"We had a run-in with the Hunter." Liang glanced over her shoulder. "You alright, Mox?"

"So far." There he was, something big and bulky slung over his shoulder. "Hello, Cameron."

"Oh. Hi, Mox." He coughed. "Good to see you."

"Not to interrupt the party, but where's Major Kelly?" Sylvie still had her amp out when she hurried up, biting her lip. "She's not responding on comms."

" _Her tracker is active_." Gallant didn't sound happy either, but at least he was useful. " _She's_ –"

 _Smash!_

"Fucking fuck!" Cameron nearly fell over as the sectopod slammed through a small guard building, bursting from the smoke cloud like it didn't give a shit. Giant chicken legs slamming into the dirt hard enough to create tectonic shifts, it loomed over them, wrath cannon bright red.

"Move!" Liang grabbed Cameron, yanking him off to the side. He raced with her, hands over his head as the wrath cannon went off again, shaking the earth with its fury. Overpressure was enough to fling him and the Grenadier both off their feet, hard enough they slammed into the compound wall and fell in a heap.

The sectopod loomed, cannon still unleashing Hell.

* * *

 _Bang!_

The sectopod paused. Its optical sensor was shit, but it still had auditory detection, and that wasn't a normal sound. It must have assumed it came from some kind of weapon. Pity for it: that was the sound of a grapnel launcher.

Jane's hook drove hard into the top of the sectopod, and she leapt from the compound roof before it could obliterate it with that monstrous cannon. She swung into the robot's armored flank, bracing on it with both feet while her motor whined and hauled her up and up until she could spring onto the thing's head.

"Right." Jane unslung her shard gun, putting a point-blank range shot into the swiveling mag-turret before it could come to bear. "Shut up." She kicked at a loose, still red-glowing plate, and it pried up from the impact. Unwilling to expose her foot to more heat, she used the butt of her gun to flip the plate like a pancake. "I said shut up!"

It twisted, going through some kind of dance move as it tried to fling her. Jane fired her grapnel again, and it latched in firmly by her foot. She clutched the line tight with every wild buck underneath her, keeping her position by force of will.

One-handed, she brought her gun to bear on the exposed circuitry and processors below the amputated plate.

 _Blam!_

The sectopod jerked harshly. It staggered. The cannon abruptly shut off, and Jane fired two more times, the recoil so nasty that her elbow nearly popped. Each successive blast rent the internal workings of the killer mech a little more, and after the third shot...

After the third shot, lights went out all over its skin and inside it.

"Whoa!" Jane clutched her line as the sectopod leaned forward, metal groaning as its own weight proved too much. Gravity yanked hard, and she had to disconnect her line in a hurry as something blew up behind her. She jumped, firing her grapnel in mid-air at the first tree branch she could find.

She swung down with two aching arms, staggering a bit when she hit the permacrete. She whistled through her teeth, shaking her head vigorously.

The sectopod crashed behind her, burying itself in the torn-up dirt. It also exploded, and the red glow was visible even looking exactly the other way. Heat blasted Jane's back, flicking her ponytail around and toying with her hat.

Silence fell slowly, save the crackling of flames.

"Fucking showoff." Liang was the first to emerge from cover, scowling. "You didn't have to be dramatic about it, Irish."

"It's dead. That's the part that matters." Jane winced when something else blew up. "We need to leave. Now, before things get worse."

" _I'll contact your backup to the north. Get yourselves on the move and in position for pickup_."

"Sir." Gallant's voice was the last thing Jane wanted to hear. Life and death didn't hang in the balance any more.

Kipler's voice echoed in the dark reaches of her thoughts...

No. No, life and death did hang in the balance. Extraction, that was the key: until they were safely away from the Forge, there was no time to think about these things.

But then...

" _He is the reason your world ended in fire. Bear that in mind_."

* * *

 **Author's Note 69: Can You Guess The Season 3 Theme Song Yet?**

Realistically speaking, sectopods' design is so stupid it actually hurts. Giant thin chicken legs? The weapons all suspended so high in the air? All you have to do his kneecap it and it's deader than dead. Legged vehicles are so impractical it's cringeworthy to see them being used unironically sometimes. I'm talking to you, Star Wars.

On the flip side, from a gameplay perspective, sectopods are...also stupid. Am I the only one who feels like they got a serious nerf from Enemy Within to 2? In the former, they were almost impossible to hit, and almost impossible to damage even if you did manage to hit them. Sectopods were nuclear bowls of searing rage and murder. Now they're kind of...there. The fact that they only ever spawn with a few infantrymen doesn't help either. Even their extreme armor can be bypassed with a grenade or two or a grenadier with Shredder or a reaper or...it's a long list. Sectopods are worth being wary of, but not being _afraid_ of: save that for gatekeepers, stun lancers, and chryssalids. Maybe Avatars.

Definitely the Chosen.

Until next time, _Vigilo Confido_.


	70. Quicksand

_Please remember to favorite and follow!_

* * *

 _"I'm just a normal boy, that sank when I fell overboard,_

 _My ship would leave the country, but I'd rather swim ashore..."_

 _~Blue October, "Into the Ocean"_

* * *

 **Chapter Seventy: Quicksand**

"Welcome back, Menace." Gallant had to pause then: Firebrand gleefully hit the switch to close the bay doors, and the world was growling sound for a long minute as the motors whined and metal ground inexorably toward collision.

"No complications on the ground in Kentucky?" Bradford managed to pick up before him, and Gallant quietly stewed.

"No, sir." Cameron offloaded the enormous...thing slung over his shoulder onto a waiting gurney.

The thud of its head hitting metal was very audible.

"What...is it?" Aileen Quinn all but poked it with her pocketknife, only hesitating when Tygan almost physically threw himself in the way.

"It's valuable. It's something the Elders would never have dreamed of letting us take." He touched one of its enveloped hands, wonder in his eyes. "It's a similar suit to the one we found the Commander in."

"Is it someone else they've kept on ice?" Gallant eyed the suit warily. "Do we need to perform emergency surgery?"

"No. Whatever's in there isn't producing any life signs." Shen checked her tablet as ROV-R hovered at the enormous suit's shoulder, humming gently. "Biological makeup...I can't tell anything else from the surface like this."

"Kang, Nui." Gallant jerked his head. "Take it down to the labs. No: the SHADOW Chamber. Right, Doctor?"

"Indeed." Tygan still didn't release its hand. "I'll begin preparations for a full analysis as soon as I get down there–"

"My God, man: finish your work on Project Verdun first." Gallant swatted him lightly on the arm. "And stop fondling the merchandise. It's getting creepy in here."

"What?" Tygan jumped. "Oh. Of course, Commander. My apologies."

"Anyone who's wounded, report to the medbay. You should all know the drill by now." Gallant glanced at Mox's arm. "Did our friends give you first aid, or did you do it yourself?"

"A mix of both, Commander." Mox shrugged. "I will survive."

"Pity." Gallant nodded at Dragunova. "My condolences."

"Now, now." Bradford chuckled, and the rest with him. Why not? Everyone was alive, after a mission harder than many...laughter was easy when there was no one to mourn.

For once.

"Anything else?" Gallant leaned on his cane, doing his best impression of an overly interested pre-algebra teacher. "Old friends?"

"Kipler." Jane pushed past Liang with her shoulder, brim of her cap tugged low. "Ran into him in the administrative complex."

"Did you?" Though they got the same words out at the same time, there was a world of difference between Tygan's eager surprise...and Gallant's hungry growl.

"And?" Bradford split the difference fairly well by keeping things professionally cold.

"Dead." Jane turned for the far door, reaching up to pull out her hairband.

"Oh." Tygan's eyes glazed. "I suppose...it was probably for the best."

"Damn right." Gallant didn't bother trying to console him. "Get any information out of him first?"

Jane stopped. The way she turned...it was almost hesitant, like she was afraid to look him in the eyes.

Funny, since her own were covered by a shocking sheet-ice wall of cold composure that cut off any trace of the connection they'd had just the previous night.

"No." Gallant hadn't thought it had been possible for her voice to be chillier than her gaze, but he'd been wrong.

"Major?"

"Excuse me, Commander. It's been a long day." And without another word, she turned back for the companionway door and started off.

Gallant could only stare until the darkness enveloped her.

* * *

"It's food. I promise." Julie pushed the much-too-big-for-its-contents plate back a little more firmly. "Cross my heart and all that good stuff."

The boy eyed her dubiously, and the plate too. He didn't take it from her.

"Is it the food, or is it me?" Julie sat cross-legged on the floor, trying to parse the issue through. "Do you not like it? It's all we've got. I made it myself."

Nothing.

"Do you hurt?" Julie set the plate down–sooner or later, he'd eat, right? There were other things to worry about for now. She pointed at his foot, swathed in bandages. "Do I need to change those? Refresh the nanobots? More painkillers?"

His big eyes blinked seriously. Julie bit her lip.

"I can't help take care of you if you don't talk to me." She tried another tack. "Is it me? I'm not going to hurt you. I found you, remember? I'm your friend. I'm your..." She couldn't quite bring herself to claim the title. "I'm your friend."

Blink. He fiddled with the neckline of his shirt.

"Here." Julie pushed the plate his way again, fighting a burning deep in her chest that didn't owe its origins to her own arsenal of injuries. "Just eat something. You must be hungry."

 _Beep!_

"Oh. Come in!" Julie smiled sheepishly up at the doorway when it hissed open. "Hi. I'm so sorry I wasn't there to greet you. I knew you were okay, so..."

"It's fine." Sylvie poked her way inside. "Has he said anything?"

"No. If he didn't scream so loud, I'd wonder if he was mute." Julie brushed her hair back, and had to pause halfway through to cough, clutching her chest. "God."

"You hurt." Sylvie settled on the floor beside her, and the boy regarded her with the same big, curious eyes. She gently touched Julie's shoulder, and something about her icy fingers was very welcome.

"A little. I'm fine." Julie couldn't help coughing again.

Sylvie eyed her for a moment. Then, she reached into her pocket. "Here."

"Huh?" Julie blinked when her girlfriend popped out a little plastic-wrapped... "Is that one of my brownies?"

" _Non_. I made this one myself." Sylvie tossed it to herself, then offered it...to the boy. " _Est-ce que tu le veux?_ "

Blink. But he did slowly reach out, so that was something.

"I do not think he speaks French." Sylvie let him take the brownie. Julie scowled.

"He hasn't eaten _food_ yet and you're giving him chocolate–"

"He will be healthier if he eats chocolate instead of nothing." Sylvie shrugged. "Baby steps, _ma amore_ , baby steps."

"Amore, huh?" She'd butchered the pronunciation, but Julie still got a tingle out of repeating the word. "If I didn't know better, I'd think you liked me."

"Lies. Slander. You are an ugly American blight." Sylvie nudged the plate over toward the boy as soon as he finished disappearing the brownie. "Eat."

Blink. He tilted his head...and froze when Sylvie popped another brownie out between her fingers. He reached for it with both hands.

"After." Sylvie pushed the plate a little more firmly, literally setting the brownie on the other side. "Food first."

"You are a genius." Julie scrambled to take notes when the boy pulled the plate closer, dubiously considering its load. Literally: she whipped out her notepad and started scribbling. "I am shit at this whole child thing."

"I had a niece."

"Oh." Julie heard the past tense, but held off from pushing the topic. "Sylvie..."

"Yes?" She slipped her arm around Julie's waist.

"I don't..." Julie watched the little boy hesitantly eating, and her shoulders fell almost without her realizing it. "I don't think this is going to be easy."

Sylvie said nothing. Julie closed her eyes, fighting another round of pained coughs. She leaned her head on Sylvie's shoulder, folding her hands in her lap and listening to her girlfriend's heart beat and breath come in and out.

When her eyes eventually opened, much later, she was tucked in bed at one end of the psi-cubicle and the boy in his little cot at the other.

And her head was still nested on Sylvie's chest.

* * *

"Upon initial examination, the suit appears similar in design to the one in which Commander Gallant was recovered. See Surgery Thirteen notes."

Richard Tygan paused to adjust the SHADOW Chamber lighting, and also to key on his datapad. He didn't adjust the recording application, just sent some preliminary requests for various tools and supplies.

Illuminated in the dark, purple-tinted space, the recovered Advent Stasis Suit loomed on a gurney.

"With Project Verdun primarily in Chief Shen's hands, I feel free to turn my attentions to this new, more edifying project." Tygan laid out his autopsy tools very neatly, pursing his lips as he considered where to begin. "Side note: due to my personal familiarity with Doctor Kipler's work, and knowing he was present at the facility from which this sample was recovered, I will be making assumptions as I proceed as to developmental decisions. Whatever conclusions I draw from these assumptions need necessarily be examined extremely closely."

He paused to wipe at the orange visor covering whatever face the specimen possessed. "This marks the official beginning of the research notes for the project henceforth codenamed 'Golem'. Myself, Dr. R. Tygan, is the only present examiner, though I have notified Chief Shen's department of the potential I might request her expertise."

A challenge, this: what had Kipler made for the Elders? Had he picked up on the work of someone else, or had his tenure with XCOM been a pause in a much longer project?

Tygan's eyes flicked to the far end of the chamber. The janitorial staff had been through with a fine-tooth comb–possibly literally–and they swore there was no biological material left to contaminate any research conducted here. That didn't change anything, and Tygan still swore he could see the faint bloodstains on the wall and decking.

His bloodstains.

 _Post-traumatic stress._ He didn't need to be the son of a psychologist to put that one together, noting how his heart skipped a beat and warmth flushed out through his breast just at the sight and thought. _Anxiety, triggered by external stimuli. Irrational_.

He took a deep breath, averting his eyes. Just thinking of Kipler was enough to bring back memories, both good and bad. The obvious scientific solution was to stop thinking about him, but this project required a degree of consideration that would certainly trigger future episodes.

Which was a problem that could be dealt with as it erupted. For now...

"Within the confines of the Stasis Suit we recovered from the so-called Forge facility, we are detecting a humanoid organism of some form. Is this a new breed of Advent soldier? Perhaps a new alien being, one that has until now managed to avoid capture or observation by Resistance soldiers entirely?" Tygan plucked up his face shield, checking its strap and deliberately working out the kinks and twists that offended his sensibilities. "There was a considerable level of security in place to protect this specimen, so it is clearly a very important alien asset. It will take a very thorough analysis to determine why."

He slipped his mask into place. "And so, I shall begin."

* * *

"Are you busy?"

"Huh?" Aileen glanced up from her datapad, held in her lap where she nestled on her bunk. "Oh. Hi, Irish."

"Well?" Jane leaned in the doorway, her own datapad in hand. "Because I could use a favor. It's important."

"Huh." Aileen eyed her. "What's eating you?"

"It's complex." And Jane had no intention of going further. "Long story short, I'm trying to access this file on our mainframe, but there's a section that's hidden behind a security gate. I need to get past the gate and read the rest of it."

"Have you talked to Central or Tygan? I'm sure they could give you file access."

"I..." Jane hesitated. "Well..."

"...you don't want them to know about this, do you?" Aileen raised a golden eyebrow. "Are you sneaking around behind the Commander's back?"

"Look, can you help or not?" Jane cleared her throat gently. "It's important."

"I don't know." She blew air through her teeth. "I just don't...I don't like the idea of–"

"Please, Aileen." Jane pocketed her datapad to clasp her hands. "It's very important to me. Just this once...please. I'll owe you."

"You..." Finally, Aileen sighed. "You're a bloody cheat, you know that? I'd feel like such a bitch saying no to all that." She opened her drawer.

"Thank you!" Jane had to scramble, then, because Aileen tossed a little computer chip her way.

"You know how to use a slicer, right? That functions the same way." Aileen didn't look happy with her decision, but she didn't ask for the chip back either. "It's a fire and forget tool. You use it, you trash the card and pray the Commander doesn't go rooting through your rubbish bin."

"You're the best. But you knew that." Jane hesitated. "And...if Bradford or Gallant comes around..."

"Jane, I won't lie for you, not to them. But right now, I don't really know what you're doing, so I probably won't have to. And I won't go out of my way to tell them things they don't directly ask about." Her eyes seemed very dark, very full of misgivings. "Just...be careful, okay?

Jane nodded, just a little. "Thank you."

"Get out of here." Aileen returned to her datapad. "Go be furtive somewhere else. Don't drag me down with you, yeah?"

"Sure." Jane backed out of her friend's room, clutching the hacking chip close. "Have a good evening."

She fairly flew back across the barracks for her own quarters, nearly shoving Fatima out of the way when she didn't move fast enough for Jane's tastes. She raced inside, hit the door switch, and then activated the lock too on general principles. Heart racing, she dropped onto her bed and fished out her datapad. With shaking fingers, she thrust the hacking chip into the proper port.

 _Connection established_ , the device told her in block red letters. _2:00 Remaining_. The countdown did its thing, and while it worked, Jane returned to examining what portions of the document she did have access to.

"Commander Andrews-Gallant, Edward M." Jane whistled through her teeth. "No wonder he stuck with his dad's name. Makes him sound like a superhero."

His personnel file–a combination of US Army data and notes from Bradford and the Shadow Man on his tenure at XCOM–contained no real surprises. Jane already knew about his meteoric rise prior to deployment in Iraq, about the ambush that crippled him and ended his career, and about his transfer to Area 51 and the Project. She winced, reading some of the anecdotes about his time before the Armed Services Committee–on which panel his own father had sat, so the hearing on the disaster in Iraq must have been painful for everyone involved. The years hadn't done much to temper his snark and his acid, at least not until Switzerland. He'd started to improve then...

 _Hacking finished_. That message cut Jane's thoughts off very abruptly. _Access granted_.

"Thank God." She waved the prompt away, then scrolled to the security-sealed section she hadn't been able to access. Everything else on Gallant's personnel file was there for the reading, and even what few parts were classified, her own ID as a member of the Commander's inner circle had been enough to bypass.

But not this: not the segment containing Tygan and Gallant's personal notes on his time as an Advent captive. The segment that would prove Kipler a goddamn backstabbing liar, out to do nothing more than drive a wedge between her and Gallant.

Or...

"No turning back now, Jane." Uneasy, she pulled the chip from her datapad, already making plans to throw it over the side next time she was on deck. "You've come this far."

Undoubtedly true. She took a deep breath.

And she opened the secure files.

* * *

"The containment field?"

" _Active_."

"Thanks, Julian." Lily Shen pulled her goggles down over her eyes, playing with the settings. "The alert?"

" _The levels immediately above and below Engineering have both been cleared of nonessential personnel_."

"How high are the odds of a catastrophic fuckup?"

" _Forty-two percent_."

"Nice, an even number. That means fifty-eight percent chance of success, which means it's in the bag." Lily beamed, and wider when Julian didn't clap back. Most likely he wasn't going to dignify her with a response, but it was always possible he thought she was right.

"All right. Let's see what all this science and R&D has cooked up." Lily finished with her goggles, cracked her knuckles, and glanced down the clear bay space. "Range is fifty meters."

It felt odd. The handle was molded, not stocky, and the all-alloy construction was cool and smooth under her fingers. The internal power cell hummed faintly, and something in the little _thrum_ made it feel almost...alive.

"Advent's version seems to function on the knife's edge between power and safety. This seems to be why the main Advent infantry continue to use magnetic weapons: it wouldn't do Angelis much good if her grunts blew themselves up every five minutes. Only the soldiers with extensive training and genetic predisposition for plasma rifle operation are trusted with them." Lily scowled, checking the sights. "I'll need to see how many recovered scopes we have in storage...the default on this thing is terrible."

" _The design is a nearly-perfect mimic of Advent's muton-issue weapons_." Julian hummed for a minute. " _This might explain why our soldiers have such a high chance of survival when under fire_."

"Where have you been?" Lily shivered, unable to make any more light of the idea. She thought of David, she thought of Mariah, she thought of MacLeod and Sophie Weber and...and...

Her eyes went to the wall, and the dark stains spread over her decking.

ROV-R buzzed distantly, in a very dog-like inquisitive manner. The plasma rifle felt very heavy in Lily's hands: much heavier than its unnatural alloy construction could account for.

"...Jiaying..." She closed her eyes, wincing as the titanic, world-breaking report of magnetic gunshots echoed in her darkness again.

" _Lily._ "

"Huh?" She blinked. "Oh. Sorry."

Julian's red face remained, as always, inscrutable. " _The test._ "

"Yes. The test." Lily shook her head to clear it, and purposely moved on from the splotch at the corner of her world. She put her back to it, trying to act like she didn't very well know what sin hung on her shoulders.

She sighted in as best she could down the sleek, curved, very ethereal design, pressing the slim stock into her shoulder. She hit the safety, and the power cell thrummed louder, warming up in preparation.

What others saw intellectually or on drawings, Lily saw in her mind's eye: The cell warmed up, the lenses slid into position from their protective shells...energy projected, forming a sealant that forced the ball of boiling plasma searing in the weapon's heart to race forward and not out to the sides...

Well, there was a fifty-eight percent chance of that, at least.

Lily hit the trigger.

Green energy blasted out in a brilliant searchlight-beam, shooting right across Engineering and boring into the wooden mockup of a First War muton where it braced against several full containers of scrap and refuse–

And it exploded. Not the target: that just disintegrated, immolating in a sudden blast of plasma energy. No, the _containers_ blew apart, melting and vomiting their multi-ton contents in a surge of devastation that scattered over half of the workshop all at once. Smoke blasted outward from the impact point.

"Jesus!" Lily covered her nose, staggering as the acrid stink of red-hot metal and crackling, burning wood hit her like a hammerblow. The overpressure from the plasma detonation made her stumble even harder, and she barely caught herself on the arm of the SPARK II, sitting dormant in the corner.

" _Luminescence from ignited atmospheric particles lingers for several seconds after the initial blast._ " Julian paused, possibly to run numbers. " _There is a seventy-nine point two percent chance that our soldiers will be forced to change positions after each shot, or risk the enemy tracing the fire back to its source_."

"Our people can deal with it." Lily stared wondrously at the weapon in her hands. "That shot could have disemboweled a muton."

" _The likelihood of that shot terminating a muton struck in approximately the same position as the image on the target wood is ninety-four point_ –"

"Good God." Whatever the point-something was, it wasn't big enough for Lily to care. "Ninety-four..." Her lips twitched. "Oh, Angelis won't be happy when she finds out about this, will she?"

* * *

" _I had high hopes for the Resistance under your leadership, Commander, but you have outdone yourself_."

"Thanks." Gallant leaned back in his chair, fingers steeped. "How are our unwelcome guests handling the Warlock?"

" _They are certainly not pleased at the loss of one of the Chosen, but panic has not yet overtaken them. I believe Angelis is rallying the Elders around this new alliance forming between the Hunter and the Assassin. To hear her tell it, eliminating the Warlock has only made his surviving siblings all the more dangerous_." Shadow Man leaned forward over his desk, at the other end of the call. " _I fear she may be right_."

"If so, we'll handle them." Gallant didn't blink. "Keep me informed of any new developments."

" _Of course. Good luck, Commander_."

"Still doesn't believe in good-bye, does he?" Gallant chuckled as the screen fully blacked out. "Bit of a tightwad, I say."

"He's not bad. From what I can tell, he got in at the beginning, when Advent was still getting off the ground." Bradford, poised in the far doorway, shrugged. "Took a big personal risk about it, too. We've got more to worry about than a man on a screen."

"Man? More like a silhouette." Gallant frowned, checking the notifications that had accrued during his conversation. "Huh."

"What?" Bradford tilted his head. "Something from that little man running the Black Market?"

"No." Gallant bypassed Shen's report on Project Verdun, and Tygan's on the start of Golem, to open up the security blip flashing red on his taskbar. "This says there was an unauthorized access of a classified document."

"Really?" Bradford frowned. "From where?"

"Uh..." Gallant was no one's definition of a 2035 computer expert, so it took him a minute and a few muttered curses directed at whoever the aliens' equivalent of Bill Gates was to sort through the UI. "A mobile source: a datapad, most likely. Whoever it is covered their tracks with a slicer chip."

"How upstanding of them. Probably just a prank, sir: someone trying to set off an alert for shits and giggles. My money's on Firebrand."

"Maybe." Gallant frowned. "The access came a few hours ago...the computer picked it up in a routine data check as soon as the slicer's cover program wore off."

"I'll talk to Quinn. She's our main Specialist, so she's the point woman on slicers and such." Bradford paused. "What file was our mystery friend looking at? That might help point us in the right direction."

"...mine." Gallant stared at the innocent-looking text that implied some far from innocent things. "My personnel file, John. The restricted section...our notes on my time with Advent."

"...why?" Bradford inhaled sharply. "Oh, God. It has to just be someone pranking around. It has to."

"The user spent...close to an hour with the page open." A weight dropped in Gallant's gut. "Whoever it is...they read it through at least once. They saw all of Tygan's commentary...what I've scribbled down of my own recollections..."

"Shit." Bradford swallowed. "We'll get ahead of it. Morale isn't fragile enough to come apart from a revelation like that, not if we can keep a straight face and nothing goes wrong for ten minutes while we–"

 _Beep! Beep! Beep!_

"Oh, what now?" Bradford clutched his buzz-cut hair. Gallant hesitantly tapped his screen.

"It's a communiqué from Geist. Something about a contact of his." Gallant looked up slowly. "And it's marked _emergency_."

* * *

 **Author's Note 70: Bad News, Guys**

I wish I'd thought to show the same cutscene from the game when we got our first mag-weapons, but having failed to do that, I like my take on it here. I think it brings the gameplay into the narrative in a fun way, and serves as a connecting point between VC and XCOM 2 proper. I also wish I'd used Shadow Man more in previous chapters, but there isn't a great deal to do with him, since he's such a disconnected figure from the main plot of the fic.

This is hard for me to finally admit and write, but I chose a very, very bad time to resume VC. A combination of health issues, scheduling problems, and general life BS has walloped me pretty hard from all sides lately, and I can barely keep my head above water even without VC. Unfortunately, I'm going to have to put the project on hiatus, and I don't know for how long. Real life can be a pain, and I'm really sorry to leave things at a cliffhanger like this. Unfortunately, I either have to put everything else in my life aside to bulldoze about 10 chapters in a week, or put VC aside so I can handle the rest of it. I will return, I can promise you that, and I hope it won't be too long...but I just can't keep up the pace this fic demands of me at the current time.

Until I return, _Vigilo Confido_.


	71. Revival

_Please remember to favorite and follow!_

* * *

 _"Light it up, light it up, now I'm burning!_

 _Feel the rush, feel the rush of adrenaline!_

 _We are young, we are strong, we will rise,_

 _Cause I'm back, back, back from the dead tonight!"_

 _~Back From the Dead, Skillet_

* * *

 **Chapter Seventy-one: Revival**

"Say again?" Gallant frowned at the holodisplay. "Repeat that for me, Geist."

" _Commander_." There he was, flanked by the two sexy female psi-ninjas who'd replaced Janet and Anne. Templar HQ was buried under the Greenland ice, but his image was clear as day, standing eight feet tall amidst the bridge as if he owned it. " _One of my contacts has gained critical information on the home lair of the Chosen known as the Hunter. How she came into possession of this information, I do not know, but she and her escort detail have just barely escaped close Advent pursuit. They are en route to a pickup location in Ireland._ "

"Are they?" Gallant glanced at Bradford. "What kind of information?"

" _Location and security_." Geist's eyes glowed. " _It is my hope that you will be able to replicate your feat with the Warlock and rid the world of another Chosen–_ "

"Yeah, unless he's asleep at the wheel we're going to need a lot more than a couple passcodes and a GPS lock." Gallant fought the urge to roll his eyes. "Still, it's a start."

"You want us to pick this agent up, don't you?" Bradford didn't look happy. "We've got some problems of our own right now."

"Yeah." Gallant did his damndest to avoid mentioning or even thinking about that unauthorized access. Was there another spy on his ship? No, that was stupid: Advent already knew all about his record. Why would they care about hunting through it?

 _So the only logical answer is that it's one of my own._ _Comforting, isn't it?_ Oddly, Geist was one of the few about whom Gallant harbored no suspicions. He already knew damn near everything, didn't he? Psionics and their crap!

" _I have no assets in the area. You are their only hope. And if they die, what happens to their data?_ " Geist spread his holographic hands. " _This is a matter of mutual gain._ "

Gallant ground his cane into the deck. "Fine. Send us the coordinates."

" _Excellent_." Geist waved, and someone off-screen started typing. " _She is a brilliant engineer, and her escorts capable warriors. I am content to dispatch them as liaisons alongside Janet and Anne if you recover them_."

"Generous of you. Nothing like human resources." Gallant waited until Bradford grunted, holding up his datapad to prove Geist's coordinates had been uploaded. "Navigation, we've got a heading." He turned back to Geist. "Thank you for choosing Avenger Services. How else may we be of assistance today?"

"Large fries and a diet coke." Bradford kept his head and eyes down. Geist must not have heard, because he didn't react even as Gallant fought a snicker.

" _That will be all, Commander. We will meet again_."

"I sure as hell hope..." Gallant blew air through his teeth as Geist ended the connection then and there. "...not." He turned back to his right hand man. "Where are we going?"

"It used to be a small town near Belfast. Now it's a Lost den." Bradford didn't look happy. "Days like this I miss the Skyranger more than most."

"Go yell at Lilah. She'll get her shit together or we'll throw her to the SPARKs."

"Tempting." Bradford chuckled in the back of his throat. "I'll prep a team. It's only Lost, so it shouldn't be a problem."

* * *

"It's only Lost!" Jane ground her teeth, glaring at the bar. "What, does Central think I can't pull my own weight? I took out a goddamn sectopod!"

"Jesus Christ, calm down." Irina gave her a solid whack on the arm, and Jane yelped. "Let the others have some time to shine. Those new people, Lawrence and Barta: they could use a mission or two under their belts. Besides, this way you don't have to paradrop."

"But..." Jane clutched her shot glass. Of all the things...this wasn't what she needed right now.

"Fatima's a good leader. And Aileen will keep them straight." Irina threw her shot back, and Jane's eyes lingered on her prosthetic limbs. Skeletal metal and wires instead of sinews and bone...

"What?" The Russian's golden eyebrow went up. "You're staring."

"I am." Jane ran her nails across the bar. "Let me ask you something. If you ran into the person responsible for that ambush we were caught in..."

"What, the Advent captain?" Irina blinked. "Shoot him and move on. No mercy with aliens."

"What if..." Jane struggled with temptation, so she gave into a different one and refilled her glass. Every sip deadened her confusion a little more. Wasn't that good? "What if it wasn't an Adventer. What if it was someone else, someone..."

"Like a spy?"

"...sure. Like a spy." Maybe that wasn't exactly accurate, but who cared? Not Jane, not after this many drinks. "And you found out who it was. Who, ultimately, was responsible for James, and Obsidian, and..."

"..and me?" Irina glanced at her mechanical arm. She flexed it, expression slowly clouding. Her eyebrows creased. "I'm old-school about things like that, Jane. You don't need me to paint a picture."

That arm...and the leg to match it, too. All of Irina's new scars and burns and bruises that hadn't been there before that fateful night and her stay in prison stood out against her features like they ran red with blood, and Jane's heart beat a little faster. Something deep and deadly tugged at her insides: the claws of a hateful beast, stirring from its cradle.

 _You are a soldier. You are a soldier_. Jane glared down into her drink, trying to brand the thought into her mind. _We're all on the same side._

 _...now._

"What's bringing this on?" Irina studied her intently. Jane fought down the urge to flinch.

"Just..." What was she supposed to say? That she'd taken the word of a traitor, hacked the ship's data core, and breached high-level document security? That Advent hadn't just been keeping Gallant pickled as some kind of punishment, but because they were using him as a weapon?

That he'd been the man who had killed Jane and Irina's friends, and nearly them too?

Tempting. Very tempting. Having an ally would make her work easier, not to mention being able to vent to a friend who would understand her pain. But what would Irina do with the knowledge? Something stupid, for sure. She was very old-school. Jane hadn't ruled out doing something stupid either, but...

But what would the consequences be? What Irina didn't know couldn't get her in trouble. Jane's own fate was hers to play with, but Irina deserved peace.

"Just...drinking too much." Jane sighed, rubbing her forehead. It wasn't even a lie, was it? "Guess I'm old-school too."

"There are worse traits." Irina didn't look convinced at all. "Don't be a fool, Jane."

"I..." She huffed as dramatically as possible. "I don't know what you're talking about."

"I don't know what you're talking about either. I just said don't be a fool: it's solid advice no matter what you're doing." Irina returned to her drinks, much quieter. "Just don't be a fool."

"You know me." That was a good non-answer, wasn't it?

Irina's eyes tracked Jane's shot glass the whole way up and down.

* * *

"She's almost ready to fly. As soon as we get someone from Shen's team to come take a gander and help us work out the last bits of the wiring, I think she'll be in the air." Cameron Rogers examined the Skyranger II critically. "We added some weapon hardpoints. And cupholders."

"That's nice." Tygan frowned. "But you can't have her airborne in time to recover our field team?"

"Doubt it." Cameron whacked the dropship's flank affectionately. "She's a lot more work than you'd think."

"Like most women, huh?"

"Lilah!" Cameron threw his hands into the air. "I did not say that!"

"Sure you didn't. You were about to." She really looked quite fetching, hands on her hips in tattered pre-war shorts with her legs out for the world to see. Especially after so long buried under her flight suit...

 _Not that I don't still have a soft spot for the old thing_. God, maybe he'd worked so hard on the Skyranger II just so he could see Lilah kitted up like the old days again. She'd surmise as much, wouldn't she?

"Firebrand." Tygan inclined his head, for all the world as if he were immune to her charms. "Can you confirm Cameron's analysis?"

"Damn straight I can. I'm not a sparky, so..." She spread her hands artfully. "I'd probably just electrocute myself if I tried to finish up the wiring."

"I see." Tygan turned to his datapad. "I'll notify the Commander and have someone from Engineering come up to take a look. You've worked miracles."

"Don't forget Liang." Cameron smiled. "She helped."

"Eh." Lilah held out thumb and index finger about a quarter-inch apart. "Snarky one-liners and a lot of butt-slapping. No meaningful contributions."

"Oh!" Cameron cleared his throat. Right in front of Tygan?

"Those can be meaningful." Did he ever react emotionally to anything? Without so much as a creased eyebrow, the scientist turned and started for the elevator. "Keep up the good work."

"Yes, sir." Cameron shot him a salute he didn't even notice. "So, where's Liang?"

"Uh..." Lilah shifted her weight. Was something...different? "Room."

"Oh." Cameron hummed under his breath. "What do we do until the team gets back? Aileen's out with 'em, and the new kids, and Sylvie and Junior. Want to round Liang up and go annoy Julian? That's a good way to kill an afternoon."

"Actually..." Lilah coughed. "I kind of asked Liang to stop by already."

" _Oh_?" Cameron tried his best to lean very casually on the dropship. "That's another good way."

"No, it's..." Lilah's eyes darted across the hangar. "Can you come with me, please?"

"...you said please." Cameron blinked. "Who are you and what have you done with Lilah?"

"Kinky things." The words were her. The tone was...not. Her heart wasn't in it. Had she been putting on a false front for Tygan?

"What's wrong?" Cameron pushed off the Skyranger. "Talk to me."

"Not here." She took a half-step back. "Just...come with me, please?"

"...okay." Cameron's heart started to beat a little faster. This did not sound good. Did she have some kind of disease? She was great and all, but that didn't change his urge to cross his legs protectively.

Lilah didn't say another word. She turned on her heel and hurried across the hangar for the far door, stride uncharacteristically subdued. Cameron's stomach clenched a little tighter with each step.

 _Is there another spy?_ He couldn't help glancing over his shoulders. _Jiaying and Vermuelen were bad enough, to say nothing of Kipler. But if there's another..._

His fingers brushed the stock of the old kinetic pistol he'd "forgotten" to turn in to the Armory. Someday, Bradford would figure out it was missing and give him hell, but if they got shot down again before then, or Cameron got jumped like Tygan had...

"Here," Lilah said, for all the world as if Cameron didn't know where her room was very well by this point. He refrained from snark, just keeping a weather eye down the corridor until Lilah had gone in and he could follow.

"Hey, Moose." Liang leaned against the wall, arms crossed and eyes hooded. "Thank God. Now I can find out who died."

"Oh. She didn't tell you anything either?" Cameron closed the door, glancing at the pilot. Lilah drifted across the room, lips very thin. "She's been very mysterious."

"I don't like mysterious." Liang was definitely a hard one. Her eyes glittered with worry and fear in equal measure. "Lilah, what's wrong?"

"I..." Who was this woman, standing with her back turned? "Well...um...uh, the thing...the fact of it all..."

"Baby. Look at us." Cameron reached for her shoulder. The instant his skin made contact with hers–

"Wow." Liang's eyebrows went up as Lilah squeaked, boots thumping back down on the plating. "I think she went ten feet in the air. At least eight."

"You're scaring us, Firebrand." Cameron swallowed on a dry throat. "What is it?"

"I..." At least she was looking at him now. What was it to fill her with that much apprehension? To twist her up with _that_ much dread? "It's..." She swallowed. "So..."

"Out with it." Liang pushed off the wall. Her lips twitched. "Who's the father?"

Cameron chuckled. Lilah inhaled sharply.

And pointed squarely at him.

"...what?" Cameron's eyes went wide. "This is a joke. You're pranking us!"

Mutely, Lilah shook her head. She never lowered her hand. Was she...trembling?

"...my God." Liang blinked slowly. "You're serious? You're...I was making a joke, and you're..."

"Jesus." Cameron ran a hand through his hair. "You're _pregnant_?"

"That is usually what they call it when a man implants a parasite in a woman." Finally, a bit of Lilah was bubbling back to the surface. "Or do you want me to waddle around at nine months telling everyone it's a tumor?"

"And I'm the..." Cameron couldn't process the idea. "You're sure?" He held up both hands before either woman had the chance to speak. "Never mind! Stupid question. Sorry."

"Hit him." Lilah glared. "Dick."

"Sure."

"Ow!" Cameron rubbed his arm. "Dammit, Liang. I apologized!"

"There is no apology. Only punishment." But her eyes weren't clear either. " _Wow_."

"What do we do?" Apprehension flared over Lilah's freckles, and she worried with her hands very intently for a minute. "Central's going to kill us all."

"Not you. You're pregnant." Cameron jerked a thumb at Liang. " _Us_ , he'll kill."

"What have I got to do with this?" Liang shook her head wildly. "Basic biology! I'm blameless!"

"Christ." Cameron sat down hard on the bed. "It's..." He glanced helplessly at Liang. "What do we do?"

"It's not my kid." There was something very final about her tone. "That means it's not my decision."

"What _can_ we do?" Lilah bit her lip. "I'm sorry, Cameron. I screwed up. I must have taken the wrong pill–"

"That doesn't matter, not now." Cameron sucked in breath. "We have to deal with what is. It's not your fault. It's...it's not a bad thing, is it?"

"Come again?" Lilah blinked.

"You're pregnant. That's usually cause for a celebration, isn't it?" Cameron didn't have to dig deep to muster a smile. "Sylvie and Julie have that boy they adopted, don't they? There's precedent. And you're not a field combatant: you can still fly as long as you don't kamikaze anyone again."

"You..." She clutched her mouth. "You're not mad?"

"Why would I be mad?" Cameron pushed up, and he held his arms wide. "Jesus, Lilah: this is wonderful. This will be a morale boost for the entire ship! A child born and raised free?"

"You actually want to..." Tears burst over Lilah's cheeks, and she nearly threw herself on Cameron. She said a lot, too, but whatever it was went right into his chest.

"Easy." He hugged her tight, and her fingers dug into his sweater. "This is a good day. I'm excited. Are you?"

She nodded, spreading her tear-stains over him. Who cared?

A father...a _father_...

"Well, this is cute." Liang chuckled in the back of her throat when Cameron and Lilah both turned to stare at her. "Just don't get any ideas about whipping up a sibling just yet, okay? I like not puking every morning."

* * *

" _Kipler?_ "

" _Right here_." The Hunter held up the doctor's head by the hair. " _Not much else left of him_."

" _Well_." It took a lot to rattle the Assassin. The shattered remnants of the Forge, rent and torn by errant mag-rounds...the flames still burning days later, the support ships hovering over the facility to try and recover whatever valuable materials they could...

" _It'll take something on the order of a week just to clear Ol' Rusty from the path_." The Hunter idly tossed Kipler's head over his shoulder. " _XCOM really did a number on us. We need the new models out here._ "

" _They're not ready_." The Assassin didn't feel ready either: not after getting blown up with psi-energy in China. It had barely been a day between the retaliation strike and XCOM's raid into Tennessee. Did they even sleep? " _Angelis has said that the keepers are restricted to the holy places. She shared more with our brother, but..._ "

" _But he's not talking_." The Hunter popped a few starburst into his mouth, and the Assassin tried to ignore the disgusting noise of his chewing. " _They took Specimen Thirteen_."

" _Really?_ " The Assassin narrowed her eyes, studying the rushing river. " _Angelis won't be happy. Especially if they know what it is._ "

" _They can't, unless our brother told them in one of his fits of maniacal rage before they melted him._ "

" _Unlikely_." The Assassin fingered the hilt of her sword. " _We have to step up our efforts to stop them. I pulled information from the mind of one of their operatives in China._ "

" _You work that angle._ " Her brother shrugged, for all the world as if he didn't care. " _We need to focus our efforts. Where we failed in the past was trying to be everywhere at once. Now that we're not in competition, you and I have an opportunity for an organized one-two punch_."

" _Are we not?_ " The Assassin had never trusted either of her siblings, and she didn't care to sound as if she did even now. " _When we recapture Gallant, who will take this world as a prize?_ "

" _To be honest, little sister..._ " The Hunter chuckled. " _That's something to sort out when the day comes, isn't it? For now, we should worry about making sure he doesn't kill us first. Maybe we can have a duel like reasonable Chosen_... _later_."

" _Hm_." The Asssassin's gaze flicked to General Dourde, far below their perch in the one guard tower to survive the battle. " _And what is your plan for your pets?_ "

" _Simple, really_." The Hunter chuckled in the back of his throat. " _I said you can go after Gallant, didn't I? I'll play defense, just this once. I think it's time we taught them a lesson about coming into the wrong neighborhoods_."

* * *

"The target is a civvie within the city perimeter." Bradford stood at the hangar's edge, pointing at a holoprojection of the town far below. Fatima Tariq nodded, studying the projection lines for deployment.

"Standard HALO insertion." So far, nothing out of the ordinary. "Just Lost?"

"That we know of. Possibly some Advent elements pursuing our contact, but we have no confirmation."

"We'll wreck them." Nothing seemed to get under Aileen's skin: not war, not death, not the prospect of jumping from ten thousand feet in the air and possibly dashing her skull against the ground. Barta Boktoa looked green, but Anne Lawrence gave her a pat on the shoulder. Templars and Skirmishers getting along! Who would have thought?

"Don't get arrogant." Bradford gave her a harsh look. "The enemy thrives on our overconfidence."

"Sir, with all due respect..." Aileen held up her shiny, sleek new plasma rifle. "I think we've got the edge. Even if there are Advent units down there, they'll never suspect we have these."

"She's got a point." Nui Tashiro checked the belt pouch with her spare power cells. "We've got the firepower. But that isn't an excuse for going sloppy."

"Damn right." Meysam was the last member of the team, Enhanced Shadowkeeper on his belt. The Serpent Suit's internal motors whirred and twisted as he moved to get a better look at the projection. "Looks like they're holed up in that apartment complex by the lake."

"Hopefully, they stay there until you arrive." Bradford nodded toward the far side of the chamber, and Janet Ross reached for the hangar open switch. "Once you secure the target, activate your recovery beacon. We'll swing in over the water and drop lines. Might be a bit rough, but we can get you out of there. If Advent had a serious presence in the area, I wouldn't even consider it, but I doubt there's enough enemy firepower to threaten the _Avenger_ in a Lost swarm."

"Logical." Fatima slid her helmet into place. "Alright, team. Let's go!"

 _My team._ What a strange concept. Fatima was no leader–that was Chilong, or maybe Annette. But with them...

 _Said._ Even her brother was just the tip of her iceberg of mourning. Fatima had lost everything when the aliens took her prisoner...and then lost it again when Vahlen's base went up in flames.

 _Now I'm all that's left. Somehow, I became the grizzled veteran everyone treats with reverence_. What would the seventeen-year-old Malin Larsen had pulled from an alien stasis pod under fire from thin men have thought of that?

Bradford was still talking. He did a lot of talking, so Fatima tuned him out. She took up position near the hangar doors, and slowly her team filtered in around her. Barta the Skirmisher, Anne the Templar, Meysam and Aileen and Nui...

They weren't her team. They weren't the other Furies, they weren't Annette and Zhang and Marcel. Could Fatima trust them to cover her back?

Maybe. Maybe not. The world would never be the same again, and neither would she.

 _But_ , she thought as the hangar door hissed open, gradually drawing a line of sunlight on her face, _the least I can do is show them how a real soldier carries herself_.

Armed with that thought and followed by her team, Tisiphone marched into open air.

* * *

 **Author's Note Seventy-one: Don't You Dare Count Me Out**

Hi. I'm back.

I'm not going to bore you with the play-by-play of everything that's happened to me since I last posted. To be honest, I'm not sure you would believe me if I did. To cut a long, painful, convoluted story short: my uncle nearly ruined my father by embezzling his company(business partners), I lost my job(because I was working for that same company which is now dead), my writing mentor officially declined to take me on as an agenting client(though she remains a close friend and ally), and on top of everything else I had several long trips, a motherlode of car problems, and the test for my third-degree black belt. However, I did publish an actual novel, so I got that going for me, which is nice. If you're interested, check my profile page for more information(please?).

As a note, I'm not promising I'll be able to return to the normal update schedule. I'm not even prepared to commit to finishing Season Three in a straight shot. I can commit to approximately ten chapters, leaving off at a natural pause point for a midseason break–If I'm in the zone, I'll keep going, but again, I won't promise that.

Okay, now I'm going to dive back in and try to get a buffer written up. Hopefully I can maintain the two chapters a week schedule, but right now I'll settle for just getting material out. Don't be surprised if you don't see anything from me for another week or so, but I **am** back. Back from the dead tonight...

 _Vigilo Confido_.


	72. Mimic

_Please remember to favorite and follow!_

* * *

 _"Paranoia is just another word for ignorance."_

 _~Hunter S. Thompson_

* * *

 **Chapter Seventy-two: Mimic**

Wind howled through the streets, harsh and cold. It bore dust and scattered trash from another age: soda cans and newspapers billowed back and forth over twenty years in elemental ping-pong. Ancient, shattered glass windows littered the storefronts and high-rises like acne scars on a once-fair face. Long ago, maybe this place was beautiful. The coast, and a high patio over it, with low cliffs and perhaps a bustling harbor...

 _Crunch_.

"Keep it down, Barta." Anne Lawrence froze, one hand up. She frowned, straining to pick out hints of unnatural noise in the stillness.

"Affirmative." She hadn't wasted five seconds after the drop ripping her helmet off and puking. Was it something genetic with Skirmishers and heights?

Genetic. Anne shivered at the thought. LEGO creations! The idea that she could have mail-ordered Mox or Barta if she'd only had the right coupon code...it was sickening, wasn't it? They smelled so different, looked so unnatural and alien...far worse than adapted humans, weren't they?

 _It's not...it's not their fault, though_. That was a difficult thought to process. No, Mox and Barta hadn't asked to be made. Were they less than human because they weren't human? They had no connection to the Gift, and didn't that make them...well, disconnected? Redundant, maybe, but the concept kept circling in Anne's head like a shark on the warpath.

 _Unnatural._ But could she really think so little of her own allies? _Sad. Pitiable_.

No, that was the wrong way to go. They wouldn't want her pity, and it wouldn't help them. But if they weren't still the enemy, and they weren't pitiable...what in the world were they?

 _I need to talk to Janet...or maybe Geist. This is far beyond my meager ability to understand, no matter how long I meditate on it. Surely one of them can guide me._

" _Movement right_."

Fire shot through Janet's veins. She raised her magnetic autopistol, mouth suddenly very dry. "Repeat, Saleh?"

" _Right side_. _Elevated position, up in the boutique. Looks like a good ambush spot_." Not unlike his own, perched atop a water tower thanks to the Serpent Suit's wrist grapple.

" _Avenger?_ " Fatima's EXO suit hissed as she ducked behind a long-derelict van. Anne settled in beside her, and Barta and Nui across the street. Aileen knelt behind a trash can, lips thin while her drone hovered like a loyal dog.

Anne couldn't help but admire Aileen's plasma rifle. The lines on it, curving so smoothly and elegantly and...when were plasma-based autopistols coming? Or the rumors of upgraded gauntlets?

" _Copy, Menace_." Bradford went silent for a moment. " _The transponder signal is coming from somewhere on that block, but we can't risk engaging the scanners, not now. There's an Advent airbase down in Wales that's started a routine active sweep._ "

"Right. And we're expendable." Nui certainly had a career soldier's eye for the big picture. "Better that we all turn into Lost food than that the great commandy one gets shot down again."

"This is sensible and direct." And if Barta caught the sarcastic fatalism of it all, she was a damn champ at hiding it.

" _That sweep will isolate the Templar operative's signal within the next ten minutes, so I don't suggest sightseeing. Advent rapid response units can be here within five more_."

"Understood." Aileen studied the building. "How do we proceed, Major Tariq?"

"I want a two-man breach team." She jerked her head at Anne. "Take Barta. Work your way up floor by floor. Meysam, provide high cover. Aileen and Nui, check the rear side, make sure all exits are covered. I'll hold fast out here."

"Right." Of course she gave herself the safest job. Anne wasn't a coward, but what had Vahlen's little team done for the war effort? Nothing. Worse than nothing, actually: the alien Rulers were all their fault. Had the psychotic doctor intended to use them as trained attack animals? How deep had Fatima been in those decisions and plans?

These were the thoughts that separated her from Janet. Janet believed: believed in Betos, believed in Volk, and most importantly, believed in Edward Gallant. Anne couldn't shake a certain sense that this alliance was anything but, and everyone was privately trying their best to even old scores without it looking that way.

And here she was, partnered up with a literal genetically designed alien war machine.

"Consider it done." Barta raised her mag-bullpup, starting for the door. Anne almost literally swallowed her misgivings, hurrying along on her six.

 _Can't have them thinking the Skirmisher is braver than the Templar, after all, can we?_

* * *

"I don't like this."

"Why?" Gallant's eyes never left the holodisplay. "It's just a Lost-infested city with no Lost in it. Or anything else, for that matter: just that beacon, pinging and pinging away..."

"This smells like an ambush." Bradford's lips thinned. "That base could launch a UFO any minute."

"Technically it's not a UFO. I'd expect an Air Force jock to know that." Gallant chewed his lip. "If we know what it is, that makes it an Advent _Hunter_ -class attack craft. We wouldn't call a Russian jet a UFO once we removed the 'Unidentified'."

"Sir, you get my point." Bradford clutched the rail, glaring at the little blue buildings hovering over the projector. Menace's various locator beacons moved through the rubble, their signals faint enough no Advent ship could detect them unless it was hovering as close to the LZ as _Avenger_.

 _And without Jiaying screwing with our systems, we'd know if they were. Unless they've upgraded their stealth tech!_ Gallant shivered. _Let's not even think about things like that. There's no wood to knock here_.

"Should we power up scanners?" Lily knelt by her control console, Julian's red image up on her screen.

"That base would pick us up within a minute. Even if we powered down after just a few seconds, the interference would be clearly visible and put them on heightened alert." Tygan shook his head. "The risks are quite high."

"So are the risks of doing nothing, Doctor." Bradford might have been a pilot and an officer, but in his heart of hearts, he was a fighting man who'd been left behind by the Big Men in their ivory tower before. "Those are our people out there."

"Our people are the best." Gallant wasn't sure he believed that, since this team lacked Jane, Dragunova, Mox, Janet, and Julie all at once–but it had Fatima and Aileen, didn't it? They were top-tier soldiers. And what was he supposed to say with everyone on the bridge listening to him?

"Commander..." Lily pursed her lips.

"Scanners stay dormant, Chief." Gallant exhaled softly. "Central, give our troops an update. Tell them..." What was there to tell them? The Big Men smelled bad juju but couldn't prove anything and wouldn't get off their asses to help? "Tell them to be on high alert."

"Sir." At least he seemed partially mollified. "Menace, do you read?"

* * *

"Say again, Central?" Aileen growled under her breath, then played with her wrist computer. "Nessie, transmit protocol."

Nessie beeped and whirred. Aileen gave her a minute, then keyed her com again. "Central? Yoo-hoo? What are you wearing right now?"

"Green sweater." Nui paused. "What was that?"

"Contact?" Aileen brought her rifle up and sighted in after her partner in a flash. But...

"...I guess not. Trash, maybe." Nui lowered her weapon. "Signal's going to be better here than in there."

"Yeah, probably." Aileen pulled her com out and examined it. "Why isn't this thing working? It was a second ago. Dead zone?"

"I hope not." Nui tentatively started for the corner. "I'm going to make sure that was as much nothing as I thought."

"Copy that. Scream if you die." Aileen scowled, sticking her com back in. "Central? _Avenger?_ " She kicked at the first Lost corpse she found, oozing yellow blood from heavy rents in its chest. "Fatima, are you there? Does anyone copy at all?"

Static and some scrambled noises. Aileen hissed. She kicked the Lost body again. "Stupid piece of...maybe it's software?" She reached for the pouch with her slicer chips. "...didn't I have three in here, not two?"

 _Oh, right. Jane_. Aileen bit her lip, fishing a slice out. _What was she after? What did she find? She didn't exactly go around bouncing for joy after..._

Scrub that. What exactly was so secret that Jane wasn't allowed to access it? Wasn't she the highest-ranking soldier on the ship? Well, Fatima was her equal, now that everything had been formalized, but...what was there that Gallant and Bradford didn't want her to see?

 _I'm not the world's smartest person, but even I know the answer to that_. Aileen shivered, heedless as she stepped in Lost blood. _Nothing good_.

She paused. Jane slipped from her mind in a heartbeat, and Aileen glanced back down at the dead Lost.

"...why are you still bleeding?" She knelt, cradling the desiccated head. She dipped her fingers in the blood, rubbing it over her fingers in a way that would have made her rookie self vomit. "You didn't die ten years ago. You were alive..." she checked its temperature "...recently."

 _Crunch_.

Aileen's hands were on her rifle almost before she'd started to turn. She dropped one knee and sighted in, spinning and spinning until–

Until she stared down the muzzle of a magnetic rifle.

* * *

"Meysam, do you read?"

" _Say again, Anne? I read you two by two_."

"That answers that." Anne fought the urge to unsheathe one of her gauntlets on general principles. Autopistol held in both hands, she tiptoed across the creaky wooden floor. "Meysam, anything happening outside?"

" _Negative_. _Wait._ "

"Wait?" Anne froze, shivers running up her spine like icy claws. "Meysam?"

"I have misgivings." Barta covered the next door, bullpup at the ready. "Tell me I am mistaken and foolish."

"I would love to." Anne exhaled, reaching out into the Void. It was hard here, with the choking weight of so much death overpowering her Sense like industrial odor in her nostrils, but...

" _Anne, Aileen has..._ " Whatever came next, she couldn't make it out. Anne growled a curse, trying to reclaim her meditative focus.

"There's..." She felt until she touched the twinge of a heartbeat: a presence nearby, and not one familiar to her. "There's someone on the next level. At least one someone. Maybe more, I can't tell."

"That must be one of our contacts." Barta examined the stairs. "I suggest a pincer movement."

"Meaning?" Anne put one foot on the first stair. "It's going to crumble under me, isn't it?"

"I do not believe so. However..." Barta jerked her head toward an old elevator shaft, the door corroded and held open by age. "I will ascend with my grapple, and you via the stairs. We will catch whomever this is between us. If they are friendly, they will be very safe. And if not..."

"If not, we'll be split up." But Anne wasn't a coward, was she? "Sounds reasonable. Just..." She tried her com again. "Meysam? Come in, Meysam."

Nothing, now. That was encouraging.

"Let's go." Anne raised her autopistol. "The sooner we find the son of a bitch, the sooner we can get out of this citywide haunted house."

"Agreed." Barta gently pushed through the elevator door, and at least she was quiet. "I will see you on the other side."

"Yeah. Something like that." Anne took aim up the stairs just in case, and she tentatively tested the next step. A faint _bang_ from the shaft was all the evidence she needed that Barta was on the move too.

"Damn it..." Anne bit her tongue, nearly firing a burst at the wall when her foot punched right through the fifth step with an audible _crack!_ She froze, waiting for the screaming about donuts and balatens to commence, but...

 _Why is the lack of a reaction more frightening than an attack?_

She made it up, taking the stairs slowly. The floor creaked under her, so she tried to keep her footsteps close to the wall where there was more support, and thus less noise. Still, there was only so much she could do when outfitted with Templar-modified Predator armor. The suit was designed for many things, but stealth was not one of them. Anne's side scraped against the decrepit paneling almost before she realized she was leaning, and she overcorrected when she yanked away. The floor squeaked loudly, and sweat trickled down Anne's back.

And through it all, her com stayed dead silent.

 _Easy, easy._ She snapped her gun to the left as she passed an open doorway, but there was nothing inside except a long-expired civilian, likely transformed into a Lost right in his bed. Now he was half-ashes, scattered over the sheets.

 _Thump_. If that wasn't a footstep...

"Barta?" Anne leveled her autopistol at the doorway. "Barta, is that you?"

Silence. Anne dove into the Field as best she could, feeling and feeling...

A presence appeared to her third eye, almost as if she could see it in the material world. It lurked behind the next door, huddled in preparation, and Anne lined up her autopistol on the wall. The rounds would tear right through the old pre-Invasion paneling. But...

"Don't shoot!"

"Whoa!" Anne spun, and blonde hair flew as Aileen ducked, just in the nick of time to not get a pistol-whipping. "Jesus! Sneaking up on a woman like that–"

"You can come out!" Aileen held up a hand, nearly pushing Anne away. "We're with XCOM."

"Are you?" That was a woman's voice, leaking from under the door ahead. "How did you know I was here?"

"I met your man Elias down in the road." Aileen knocked on the door in an absurdly polite way. "I tried to hail our people in the building, but comms seem to be down."

"Oh. Yeah." The door cracked open, and one brown eye appeared, assessing Aileen and Anne. "That'll be the jammer. We set that up to start cracking any comms traffic in the area in case Advent launched a ground sweep."

"Turn the damn thing off." Anne did her best not to glare. "We're freaking out here."

"Not a problem." The woman pulled the door more fully open. If there was a poster child for a ratty, war-torn refugee, it was her: scraggly dark hair, cut and bruised face covered in dust and dirt, torn jacket and jeans with holes all in her boots...Anne was by no means finicky, but this woman couldn't have been more pitiable if she'd tried. "It's down the hall. The Father's guarding it."

"Who?" Anne shot a glance out the window. She couldn't see Fatima anywhere on the main street, which either said good things about her stealth skills...or very bad ones about the op as a whole.

"Father Giovanni. He's my other guard." The woman hurried past two doors while Aileen and Anne traded glances.

" _Father_ Giovanni?" Had there been a miscommunication somewhere? "As in, a priest?"

"Yes." The woman stopped at the third door. "Forgive me, Father, for I have sinned."

"Ten Hail Mary's in penance." The voice was low and serious, for all the world as if this really was a confessional. The woman nodded very seriously, more to herself than the man who certainly couldn't see her.

"Oh, I get it." Aileen chuckled under her breath. "It's a code phrase."

"We thought it was appropriate." The woman opened the door. "No Faceless here, Father."

"Or here, Yue." He was short, with receding black hair streaked with premature gray. Somehow, he had no major scars. How long had he been in the war? "Where's Elias?"

"Your young friend is down in the street, hooking up with the rest of the team." Aileen glanced past the priest. "So, that communications disruptor..."

"Shut it down." Anne eyed the relay with its three terminals and many rotating dishes. "It's messing with our coordination. You're lucky our sniper hasn't started shooting by now."

"Alright, my daughter. No need to be angry." Giovanni turned for the disruptor and started typing.

Anne scowled. "Don't call me that, old man. I am above your primitive superstitions."

He didn't even glance her way. "What is your worship of the Gift and Geist but a superstition of your own?"

"It's different." Anne glared. "We're right."

Giovanni chuckled. "That's been said a thousand times before, hasn't it? And yet here we are." He tapped one last key, and the disruptor's screens went black. "There. Communications should be back online."

"Great." Anne touched her com. "All units, this is Menace Four."

" _Where the hell have you been?_ " Fatima did _not_ sound happy. " _I lost contact_."

"We were busy. We've located the target and her..." Anne glanced at Yue, who nodded "...and her two guards."

" _Copy that, Menace Four_." Fatima paused, as if considering. " _Regroup at Point Charlie, and we'll make our way to extraction from there_."

" _Understood_." At least Barta wasn't dead. " _I am on my way_."

" _It'll take me some time to get there. Caught in a basement I shouldn't have started exploring_." Nui paused to cough. " _Sorry._ "

"Not a problem. We'll wait for you there. Call if you die." Aileen tapped Anne's shoulder. "Come on. Let's move."

"Yeah, let's..." Anne let out a deep breath. "I still don't like this."

"Relax, we've got the target." Aileen shrugged as if she didn't care in the slightest. "We're on the way out. It's downhill from here."

* * *

"Avenger, _this is Menace. We've got the package in tow and are headed for extraction_."

"Lord!" Gallant let out a long sigh, trying not to be obvious about releasing the tension in his shoulders. "Thank God."

"Copy that, Menace." Bradford wasn't all iron either, whatever he pretended: his shoulders sagged and he leaned on the rail in a very relieved way. "Bring her back in once piece. _Avenger_ will be standing by to pick you up down the coast at Baker Seven."

"I guess we're all just a little on edge, eh?" Gallant leaned on his cane, studying the barracks camera feed. The off-duty troops were there, chuckling and trading jokes now that the tension had broken. They all watched the visuals broadcast from the bridge, and...

No. No, they all didn't. Gallant frowned. There was one missing.

"John?"

"Commander?"

Gallant examined the barracks feed more closely. "Have I lost my mind, or has Major Kelly vanished?"

"Uh..." Bradford pursed his lips. "Probably hit the head, I guess."

"I...guess." Was she the source of the data breach? What was she doing right now while all the ship's eyes were on the away team?

"I've got her, Commander." Lily pointed to another feed, and Gallant studied it.

"Ah. I see." He didn't have many more answers, though. "Seems like an odd time to hit the weight room." But all eyes on the bridge were on him, so he had to at least project something other than the concern eating at him from the inside. "Still, at least she didn't fall off the stern, and that's the important part. Thanks, Chief."

 _Is she trying to take her mind off Aileen being in harm's way?_ Just because it was the easiest, least problematic, most benign answer didn't mean it was wrong, did it?

Yes. Maybe Gallant was a pessimist, but...yes, it did. The most benign answer was _always_ wrong, wasn't it? So what was the most worrisome, least manageable reason for Jane to be disconnected from everyone?

Somehow, this line of thinking didn't make Gallant feel any better.

* * *

"Nui?" Meysam Saleh frowned. He gently opened the glass door that was the only obstruction between him and the rendezvous point, eyeing his friend. "Thought you'd be late."

"Oh." She chuckled in the back of her throat. "I found a shortcut. And then Elias here caught up with me."

"How do you do?" He had a thick Swedish accent and a mag-rifle that looked to have started life as an Advent officer's. He didn't look much like a Viking though: a small serpent tattoo on his bicep was about the most warlike thing about his scholarly appearance. His T-shirt was ratty and worn, and the hilt protruding over his shoulder had yellow stains from use.

"Good morning." Meysam didn't offer his hand, but did give his name.

"Pleased to meet you. Elias Svensson." Elias studied the alleyways around. "So...where's the rest of you?"

"Got some here." Aileen appeared from the shadows, with Anne and Barta in tow. Then came a woman who had to be the VIP, and a little man who resembled nothing so much as... "This is Father Giovanni."

"A priest?" Meysam blinked. "That's a new one."

"We're just waiting on Fatima, then." Aileen lowered the Bolt Caster, jerking her head toward the waterfront. "Barta, go check the route and make sure we're clear. We'll follow."

"Understood." The Skirmisher raised her bullpup. She started off into the darkness, and Meysam couldn't help covering her until she vanished around the next bend.

"Tell me something, Doctor." Nui examined Yue very thoroughly. "What information do you have?"

"Uh..." She shrugged. "I found out some information on the Hunter's lair. Passcodes and such that could be used to get access, if it could be found."

"Really?" Meysam's eyebrows went up. The chance to take the Hunter down, like the Warlock... "Any leads on that?"

"Unfortunately, no. The only one who truly knows his location is the Hunter himself. Everyone else just accesses his lair through the portal network." Yue sighed. "And he's unlikely to tell you where he lives, willingly or otherwise."

"Well, it's progress." Aileen smiled tightly, while Nui grumbled under her breath. "Lighten up, how about? We're ahead of where we were."

"By a bit." Fatima appeared nearly from thin air, and Meysam fought the urge to whip out the Enhanced Shadowkeeper and put a round into her. EXO Suit or not, she was quiet as a cat. "Where's Barta?"

"Sent her on ahead to check things out." Aileen studied the surrounding buildings. "I don't like how quiet it's been."

"Yeah, join the club." Meysam scoped in after Barta, but she was out of sight by now.

" _Sorry, guys. Got turned around, but I'm back on the main street now. I should be at Point Charlie in a few minutes_."

" _Nui_?" Meysam froze. "But you're..."

Something hit him hard from behind, and Meysam tumbled onto his hands and knees. He rolled away on instinct, and Nui's foot hit the ground where his head had been an instant before.

"Faceless!" He whirled, grabbing for his pistol now. His fingers wrapped around the haft–

 _Blam!_

* * *

 **Author's Note 72: If It Looks Like A Duck, It's Actually An Alien Mud Monster**

Am I the only one who thinks that the resemblance between Faceless and Arkham City's version of Clayface is WAY too serious to be accidental? Maybe I'm just too much of an AC fan.

I know I'm a bit late with this one, but it's hard to get back into the swing of things. I've had to do a lot of messing around just to regain what groove I have, and hopefully that sticks. I've been trying to get hits on my novel, since it would be nice to get some income to replace the money from my job(if you're interested, check my profile: I'm not clogging my ANs with plugs). I'm hoping to make it to my original planned midseason break at CH85, but as I said last time, no promises.

Something like this–a faceless impersonating a soldier–is impossible in the game system due to how your command POV is omniscient. But might it not be really cool if some of the soldiers you can collect on random VIP rescue missions turn out to be Faceless, and they shoot at you? Maybe taking down their health causes them to transform into their regular Faceless form, minus however much HP their human shell had. What do you think about the idea?

Until next time, _Vigilo Confido_.


	73. Sororal

_Please remember to favorite and follow!_

* * *

 _"The art of war is simple enough. Find out where your enemy is, and get at him as soon as you can. Strike him as hard as you can, and keep moving on."_

 _~Ulysses S. Grant_

* * *

 **Chapter Seventy-three: Sororal**

"What in the everloving name of Jesus Christ is happening down there?" Gallant clutched the rail in one hand and his cane in the other, staring at the screwballing holodisplay full of static and ghost images bouncing off each other. "I thought they disabled the damn jammer?"

"Another one's firing up, sir. A mobile one." Lily didn't look happy. "Looks like an aircraft inbound from Wales on a search sweep, jamming external frequencies."

"God damn it." Gallant fought the urge to get more colorful. All eyes were on him still, and men took their cues from the idiot in charge. If he gave in to panic now, everyone would be on edge. "Any idea what happened before the relays cut out?"

"Lot of shouting." Bradford at least didn't sound any happier than Gallant felt. "Julian?"

" _I'm reading at least one plasma discharge signature. One of our men has opened fire_."

"Great." Breathing steadily was hard, but he'd manage somehow. "Peachy. Uh..." What were the priorities? Comms were down, so he couldn't micromanage whatever was going on. He didn't have access to fire support or anything. _Avenger_ was essentially unarmed.

 _Under pressure, you've got two choices: get wrapped up in what you can't do, or focus on what you can_. God, how many years had it been since West Point? Gallant hadn't thought about his old captain in a fuck of a long time.

 _So, what can I do?_

"Central, bring us in on the LZ."

"Sir?" Bradford paused. "We don't know what's happening down there–"

"Exactly. The team will still be pushing for the evac zone in the absence of further communications. That alien ship is inbound, and I'm not leaving anyone behind. We move to the LZ, drop lines, and winch up anyone who makes it in time."

"Sir, we've got less than five minutes until that UFO reaches us." Lily glanced at her tracking console. "Four."

"Then we'd better move fast." Gallant turned to the holodisplay. "Julian?"

" _Commander?_ " That voice would never not be creepy after the Tower, but at least the red-faced hard drive had his uses.

"Any chance you can remotely access that ship's systems?"

" _My familiarity with Advent software gives me an 87.234 percent chance of_ –"

"Kickass. Consider it a directive. Blind them and vent the power core coolant in the command section."

If Julian had a human face, it would almost certainly have turned disbelieving. " _Not going to have me access the core and detonate the ship?_ "

"Too risky. They'll have their strongest defenses on the power systems, but no one cares about the coolant vents. Won't kill any of them, but it'll keep them busy and deplete the ship's supply. Won't be long until they have to skip on back home for a pit stop."

"Clever." Bradford chuckled under his breath. "That's why you're in charge."

"Why, because I was the annoying kid in science class? Don't get too appreciative; odds are this will only work once. Angelis isn't stupid, even if she's ugly." Gallant turned his attention back to the scrambled transponder beacons and in-and-out smatters of broken communications. "And if you can kill that jammer, Julian, you'd be my favorite homicidal AI outside of Ultron."

* * *

"Fucking–" Meysam crashed on his side, covering his head as blue plasma fire rent a hole in the corner of the building. Slag and smoking masonry sprayed over him, and he yelped, flicking red-hold bits of stone off his face.

"Fatima!" What Anne had seen, Meysam hadn't, but it coincided with another plasma shot and that was enough for his stomach to drop. His gauss rifle was back in the clear ground, lost when he'd dived out of the way of "Nui's" shot, but he had the Shadowkeeper. He yanked it out and held it two-handed, forcefully reminded of old cop shows for an odd minute. Funny, how the human brain scrambled under pressure.

"Nui?" He swore, keying his com a few more times. "Fuck." He leaned around the corner. "Where's–"

"Get back!" Hands seized the back of his armor, and Meysam tumbled on top of his attacker.

Another plasma shot ripped a chunk out of the wall. Molten masonry dripped down to the pavement, and Meysam gulped.

"Thanks, Father." He clambered to his feet, brushing dust off his arms.

"Of course, my son." Giovanni checked his machinegun, and wasn't that an odd choice of equipment for a literal priest? "She has managed to scatter us all. She's keeping watch from the high ground."

"Fire escape, I'd imagine." Meysam bit his lip. "Do you know how everyone else is holding up?"

"Your major was hit, and the medic is with her now. I believe Anne is guarding them in case the impersonator attempts to advance. I got Yue under cover with Elias, and now I'm here with you."

"Great." Meysam made sure his safety was off. "Alright. Someone's got to keep that faceless' attention while someone else goes for the kill."

"She's too high up. You'd need your rifle." Giovanni patted his grenade launcher. "I used my last frag two days ago."

"But you've got bullets, right?"

"Some." He shrugged. "I have a mag and a half."

"That's enough to get her attention." Meysam nodded, heart racing. "Try and pin her down, but don't get killed. I'll go up and engage from the–"

 _Clink!_

"Oh." Meysam stared at the green, blinking cylinder. It rolled across the pavement until it touched his foot, nuzzling it almost gently. "Shit."

* * *

 _Kablam!_

"Meysam!" Anne covered her head as the plasma grenade went off, blowing the entire alleyway behind the department store to shreds. Who else had been back there with him? They were gone now, they had to be–no one could have escaped that blast.

"Is she going to live?" Anne shot a glance over her shoulder.

"Fuck you." Fatima actually tried to stand with a glowing, smoldering hole blown in her uniform. "I'll shove that rifle up her ass–"

"Stay down!" Aileen nearly straddled Fatima, spraying medical nanobots on her wound. She paused to tap buttons on her arm computer, and her GREMLIN obediently dropped to deploy an anasthetic injection. "That shot might have grazed your lung. I've got to deploy an internal scope and figure out whether you need a fusion treatment–"

Light. Anne threw herself flat before she had a chance to think, and a blue beam shot over her head and bored into the hood of a car down the street.

"Damn it!" Anne generated her shield, covering herself and the impromptu medical drama as best she could when the car cooked off, smoke tearing into the sky and flames billowing over the street. A tire bounced off her shield, and then the steering wheel, separated from the column.

Roars and cries in the distance. Between the plasma grenade and the car...

"We're gonna have company." Anne lowered her shield. "LZ is four blocks away. No way we'll make it under fire from her and trying to deal with a Lost swarm."

"She can't walk, not even with the EXO." Aileen paused to literally backhand Fatima. "Stop trying to push me off, dumbass!"

"I'm not dead yet–"

"You will be if you don't let me coddle your sorry butt." Aileen did clamber off Fatima, but only to take her arm firmly. "Anne, you've got to do something about our mimic up there. I'll get Fatima to the LZ if you can give me a distraction."

"Uh...um..." Anne wasn't half the Templar Janet was. What would she have done? Invert positions with False Nui, maybe, and have Aileen blow her away. Or she'd have created a shade clone of herself and sent it screwballing out over the open ground to draw fire while she flanked. Anne had never been able to do either.

"Right. Um..." Anne drew her autopistol. At least it was better than the one she'd used pre-XCOM. That hadn't even been magnetic! "I'll get her attention from downwind. When you get the window, get out while you have the chance. Hopefully our friends have the VIP somewhere safe."

"Are you sure about this?" Aileen ignored Fatima's beginning protest to hoist her up like cargo.

"No. You'll know when to move." Anne ducked low behind the brick half-wall marking the edge of the street, autopistol held two-handed. She shuffled along until she found a nice, thick column, and she cautiously straightened, back pressed against it.

"Okay. Okay." She sucked in a breath. "One for the money, two for the show..."

She spun, popping out from behind cover. She brought her autopistol up, hitting the trigger almost before she'd sighted in.

 _Blam-blam-blam-blam!_ Unfortunately, her clip was about the size of her ex's sexy bits. Her mag-rounds rent the ancient fire escape and smashed glass on the run-down and cracked window behind her, but there weren't many of them. False Nui ducked behind the rail, not that she even really had to–none of Anne's rounds even came close.

Then the mimic popped back up, and Anne pivoted back behind the column.

 _Blam!_

"Fuck!" Anne dropped her fresh clip halfway through reloading. The column shook behind her, and dirt and dust fell from the impact. Were the bricks hotter than they had been? Maybe this full cover wasn't as full as she'd thought. Forgetting the clip lying by her boot, Anne fished out another one and shoved it into her pistol, racking the bolt. At least she had a fuckton of spares.

"Hey, bitch!" Anne popped out again, firing a quicker burst this time. The mimic threw herself flat, and Aileen jumped from cover, scurrying toward the LZ as fast as she could. Anne let up, waiting with half a pistol's worth of mag-rounds–

Nui's plasma rifle appeared over the rail. Anne hit the trigger before thinking, and there went the other half of her clip: wasted on nothing organic and vulnerable.

 _Blam!_

"Shit, dammit, fuck..." Anne dropped flat, even though the blind shot hadn't come anywhere near her. She ejected her empty mag, scrambling for the one she'd left on the ground. "This is nuts. This is suicide." But Aileen was out there and defenseless, so Anne shoved the new clip in, then popped up on one knee.

"Yes!" Her shriek probably attracted more Lost, but so what? Her snapshot had actually _hit_ the bitch! Faceless goo flew in a brown spray from her shoulder, and False Nui's face contorted.

"Whoa!" Anne threw her arms in front of her face, summoning her psionic shield to absorb the next blast of blue energy. It dissipated out to the sides, heating up her arms and face even though the barrier...but it didn't break through. Anne bared her teeth, bringing her gun up again–

 _Wham!_

Anne choked, clutching at the scrawny forearm wrapped around her neck. The Lost Dasher heaved her backward, scratching at her armored shoulder and trying to bite. Anne lost her grip on the autopistol, and her heart stopped as it fell.

Straight into a gutter.

"No...no!" She drove her elbow into the Dasher's stomach, but it didn't even seem to feel the pain. Anne yanked at its arm, but its limited intelligence was all in on choking the life out of her. Air...

False Nui, taking her time to line up this shot with the most evil smirk playing over her face...

 _Blam!_

* * *

"What the hell is happening back there?"

"Fuck if I know. Sounds like Lost." Aileen eased Fatima down against a wall. She examined the red hole rent in her chest again. "Losing a lot of blood. We need to get her back aboard ship, and pronto."

"Evac point is four blocks away." Barta was here, at least, with Yue and Elias. What had happened to Meysam and Giovanni? Where was Real Nui? Hopefully everyone who was still alive could make for the ship. If they didn't...

"I can walk, Annette." Fatima glared through the haze in her eyes.

"Yeah, I'd believe you a lot more if you remembered my name." Aileen fished out another injection. "Hold still. It'll help with the pain."

"I'm not afraid of pain–" Fatima yelped when Aileen thrust the needle right into her arm. She fished out a quick-seal bandage, and by the time she'd finished pasting it down and activating the clot-assembling nanobots...

"I thought you were giving her a painkiller." Yue frowned.

"I said it would help with the pain." Aileen hoisted Fatima on her shoulder, heedless of her gentle snoring. "She isn't hurting if she's sleeping, eh?"

"I guess–"

"Elias!" Aileen scrambled for her plasma rifle as his shotgun blurred. Oh, God, he was turning it on her–

 _Blam!_

"Jesus Christ, kid!" Aileen covered her head one-handed as yellow slime exploded over her like the worst shower in the world. "A little warning?"

"I just saved your life!" He worked the pump, hunting for another target. "We can't wait here. They'll catch up sooner rather than later."

"Right." Aileen ground her teeth, then keyed her com. "Anybody copy? We are pushing for extraction _now_ , morons. If you're dick-boxing with the Lost, shut the fuck up and get a move on. I'm already carrying one of us out, you're fucked if you expect me to carry your ass too."

"Motivating." Yue fished in her bag, pulling out an old kinetic handgun. "I hope your extraction is close."

"If not, I'll haunt the shit out of Central." Aileen turned for the road. "Alright, let's not sightsee any more than...than..."

"Captain Quinn!" From the road ahead, Barta snapped her mag-bullpup into position, sighting in over Aileen's shoulder. "Step away from her!"

"Who are you?" cried...Barta, from Aileen's left. She aimed at her twin, clutching her weapon so hard it should have cracked. "What in the world is happening?"

* * *

There was a problem. Anne wasn't dead.

But was that _really_ a problem?

"You son of a bitch!" She opened one of her gauntlets, nearly slicing the Lost behind her in two. Its fragments flew away, legs still running and arms still beating at the ground, and Anne couldn't help whooping. "Meysam!"

"Funny thing about this suit? It has a grapple line." He didn't have his rifle anymore, but from his position on the far rooftop he recovered that line in a flash, and what about the result! False Nui stood frozen, literally–doused in the extract from the Viper King's venom sacs. How long would it hold?

With a roaring report, a blast of blue light hit the ice-encrusted impersonator from behind. The blast ripped right through her, blowing her gun from her hands and sending her toppling from her fire escape in a spray of shards...and brown goo that fell like rain in a wide cone. By the time False Nui's body reached the ground, she was nothing but slough.

The impact was more of a plop than a crunch.

"Duck!"

Anne didn't need to be told twice. She threw herself flat, rolling behind the wall and covering her head. The Lost charged, hundreds strong–

 _Blam-blam-blam! Blam!_

Laser blasts ripped into the crowd, felling three or four targets with each well-placed headshot. Meysam must have taken Giovanni with him when he grappled, because the priest opened up from the same roof. Heavy caliber machinegun bullets tore into the Lost crowd, and the Shadowkeeper roared in tandem with the assault.

"You fell for that impersonation?" Nui spat in the remains of the Faceless, pausing to eject the elerium core from her plasma rifle and shove a new one in place. "She didn't even get my nose right!"

"Thank God you're here!" Anne scrambled up to one knee, kicking shattered Lost body parts left and right as she vaulted the wall again. "Was that Aileen on coms?"

"Yeah, something something calling us morons." Meysam took a moment to slide down the first ladder he could find, and Giovanni hurried in his wake. "Sounds like we need to move. Things just seem to keep getting worse."

"Don't say that. It's not going to help." Anne froze as more Lost cries echoed through the streets, harsh and full of hunger. "Damn it, Meysam!"

"Hey, how was I supposed to know?" He swept his discarded rifle from the pavement. "I'll dig in on the rooftops, while you–"

"No!" Anne waved them off harshly. "Get out of here, for fuck's sake! Aileen called the retreat. Get to the evac point!"

"What about you?" Giovanni hesitated, while Nui and Meysam traded looks.

"Me?" Anne inhaled softly as the Lost appeared: racing and rushing from the alleys and surging toward the sounds of battle with inhuman cries of lust. "I'll meet you there. Don't worry about me."

"There must be a hundred of them–"

"Trust me, I've got no plan to die today." Anne didn't even look over her shoulder. "I won't say it again. _Go_."

In the end, misgivings or no, they were professionals. Meysam couldn't help but sight in and fire a mag-round that ripped through three of them, and Nui swore under her breath, but they did turn and hustle for safety.

"Go with God, my child." Giovanni sounded like he was administering her last rites.

Anne couldn't help but laugh. Last rites? Against only some hundred Lost?

The first dashers nearly caught the rest of the team, thanks to their hesitation. Anne's psi-blades came out in a flash, and she carved through half a dozen with as many strokes. Their putrid flesh offered no resistance, and her psionically-enhanced reflexes were more than a match for their shambling swings and faltering grabs now that she was prepared. She impaled one on each gauntlet, pitching their corpses into the throng to trip up their followers.

"A hundred to one." Anne bared her teeth, raising her psionic shield to absorb the first wild tackle that actually came close to landing. The Lost rebounded like he'd hit rubber, and he lay on the ground still with his head caved in from the impact.

Anne's laughter was the only sound louder than the Lost's manic charging cries. "I _like_ those odds."

* * *

"Nobody fucking move!" Aileen pointed a finger at the newcomer Barta, and Nessie hovered angrily over her shoulder, electricity shooting from her emitters.

"Captain, she's a faceless!" The Barta at her side growled deep in her throat. "Let me take the shot–"

"She's the faceless!" The other Barta took a threatening step. "Drop the weapon–"

" _I said nobody fucking move!_ " Aileen snapped her fingers, and Nessie's emitters crackled even more dangerously. Both Bartas froze as Elias turned his shotgun on one, and Yue her handgun on the other. "Fucking shapeshifters and fucking faceless and for fuck's fucking sake, fuck!" She kicked at a dismembered Lost foot. "I am not paid enough for this shit..."

"What do we do?" Elias twitched as more Lost screaming rang out from behind. "They won't be long getting to us. We don't have all day."

"Yeah, yeah. Keep your pants on, kid." Aileen spent a moment fishing left-handed in her pocket. It was awkward, but there was no way she was setting Fatima down when the enemy was so close in so many forms. Finally... "Okay, here's how we're gonna do this. You!" She pointed at the Barta closest to her. "Take your gauntlet off. The ripjack one."

"What are you talking about?" Targeted Barta stared behind her helmet. "Why do you have a knife?"

"This is what I like to call the Faceless Identification Protocol." Aileen hit the switch, and her pocketknife popped out, glinting in the sun. "Jane and I cooked it up. Faceless don't have bodily fluids, right? If I cut you and you bleed, you're real."

"You're joking." Target Barta started to ease back. She froze when Yue took a threatening step toward her, gesturing aggressively with the gun. "You are not cutting me with that."

"You can cut me all you like, Captain." Other Barta removed her gauntlet, holding out her hand. "I have nothing to hide."

"Sounds like that answers our question." Aileen cocked her head at Target Barta. "Are you admitting to being the faceless?"

"I do not like blades." Target Barta gulped audibly. "There must be another way."

"There probably is, but I'm not smart enough to think of it on the spot. Besides, I like this option." Aileen leveled the knife. "Give me your hand, bitch."

"Captain, that is clearly our enemy. You may test me first if it proves recalcitrant." The other Barta raised her bullpup, aiming at her double. "The real me is not afraid of blades."

"You don't know anything about the real me!" Target Barta lapsed into a long and very dirty-sounding string of Advent. "Captain..."

"Your hand." Aileen took another tentative step, wondering if burying the knife in faceless-Barta's jugular would accomplish anything if she turned hostile. "If I cut you and yellow comes out, we're good. If I see faceless goo..."

"You will."

"I didn't ask you!" Aileen glared at Other Barta. "Hold your damn breath. If you're Barta, you've got nothing to worry about."

"Except the maniac who wants to cut me with a knife." But Target Barta did slowly lower her bullpup. She reached for the fastenings on her right gauntlet, unbuckling them one by one before holding her bare hand out. Her eyes never left the knife.

"Looking pretty suspicious about now." Left-handed, Aileen set the knife against her sable, alien-textured flesh. "You're supposed to be a Skirmisher, you know. They've got a lot more to be afraid of than the odd cut. What kind of excuse was that?"

"It was not an excuse–" Target Barta yelped as Aileen, fast as lightning, drew the knife back. It slid over her palm, cutting a line across it–

 _Blam-blam-blam!_

"Major!"

 _Crash! Bang! Thud! Blam!_

"...what..." The first thing Aileen registered, oddly enough, was that she'd kept her grip on Fatima throughout the entire process. Someone had...someone had tackled her, but she still hadn't dropped her cargo. That was worthy of the gold in the Field Medic Olympics, wasn't it?

"Who's hit?" That was...that was Barta. Target Barta, up on one knee and aiming around with her bullpup. "Where is it?"

"Over here!" Elias paused, then his shotgun roared again. Faceless goo blasted up like a fountain. "Sorry. Thought it twitched. Can't be too careful."

"Well, don't apologize." Aileen groaned. "What on earth happened?"

"It knew its cover was about to be blown, so it seized the opportunity to try and eliminate you and Major Tariq." Barta held out her hand. "Would you mind, since you did the damage?"

"You..." Aileen couldn't help herself. "You're afraid of knives?"

"I am also afraid of needles."

 _Control. Think stern thoughts. Don't_ –

Aileen burst out laughing.

* * *

"Hi, team."

"Jesus Christ! A zombie!" Aileen leveled her plasma rifle. Anne scoffed.

"Please, I'm twice as hot." She threw a severed Lost head at the Specialist's feet. It thunked on the deck of the barge they were using as an evac point, rolling until Yue had to step lively to avoid it. "Everyone, meet Steve. He was the only one who actually hit me, so I thought I'd bring him back and pickle his head as a souvenir. Pretty sure Dragunova can help me. Reapers are fucked up."

"And what are you, now?" Meysam stared with something akin to wonder mixed in with his horror. "There must have been–"

"I lost count somewhere around sixty. A hundred was probably close to it." Anne shrugged. She regretted it a moment later. "Fuck! My shoulder..." She massaged it. "Anyone got water? I'm parched, I ache, and this is the wrong time of the damn month for me to be out here hurting myself. I want a fucking donut."

"Hold up." Aileen eyed her very seriously. "We had a bit of trouble with faceless today, so..."

"Seriously?" Anne pulled back her bangs, wiping at her forehead. "That's where Steve got me. Fingernails, of all things! It was nasty. I need it sanitized."

"Yeah, yeah. Fine. You're bleeding, you're real." Aileen still reached out and took some of Anne's blood on her fingertip, watching to make sure more dripped out of the cut before relaxing. "Can't be too careful. Wouldn't put it past 'em to smear some red on just to fool us."

"Consider yourself lucky." Barta glowered at Aileen. "She cut me."

"Oh no, a cut." Anne dropped to a seat against the rail, groaning. "I'm gonna need to get my armor toasted in the engines. It's supposed to be purple, not freaking yellow and green with Lost guts. I don't even want to think about how many diseases I've picked up today."

" _Good work, team._ Avenger _beginning descent_."

"Oh, thanks, Central. Couldn't have done it without you." Anne did make sure her com was off before snarking–she wasn't suicidal, whatever Steve had to say. She pushed up, fighting her protesting, screaming, abused knees, and swept up her new friend. The faint roar and thrum of elerium engines filled the air, and a dark shape loomed above the clouds.

"Sorry about calling you a bitch." Aileen didn't look at Barta. "And laughing. Just...tense."

"You cut me." From her tone, Barta would never forgive in a thousand years.

 _Avenger_ 's bulk emerged from the clouds, settling in overhead. Anne covered her ears as the roar of the engines built, but it didn't help much. It helped less when she had to let go and take the line that dropped from the hangar bay in both hands. Aileen held on with one, teeth set while Fatima hung limply across her back.

"Morning, assholes!" Firebrand waved as the winch kicked in, hauling them up from Lost-town and toward the comforting embrace of their very techy mobile home. "How was the day trip?"

"One: fuck you." Aileen stuck her tongue out as soon as her feet hit the deck. "And two: fuck you even more."

"That's Moose's job." She jerked her thumb over her shoulder. Cameron paused, pulling the music buds out of his ears.

"I don't know what she just said, but I deny everything." He put a hand on his heart as if swearing in a court. "I had nothing to do with it."

"Smart man." Anne chuckled. "Yue, this is Lilah. She's our dropship pilot, though without a ship right now."

"Not for long!" Firebrand seized Yue's hand. "Nice to meet you. Hey, have we met before?"

"I highly doubt it. I think I'd remember." Yue chuckled. "Scratch that: I'm _sure_ I'd remember."

"I like getting that reaction from people." Lilah waved across the hangar. "Oh, there's my other best friend. She's the serious one." She paused. "Anne, what the hell is that?"

"This is Steve." Anne held up the head. "He's my new boyfriend."

"Jesus. I thought black widow was a figurative term." For once, Lilah looked nonplussed. "Uh...well, okay then. Um..."

"There you are. Liang!" Aileen groaned, depositing Fatima on a waiting medical stretcher. "Can you take charge of the newbies? That's Elias and Father Giovanni–yes, Father, as in..." She paused. "Uh...Liang?"

"I..."

Anne frowned. "Lieutenant?" She studied the frozen Grenadier very intently, before turning to the object of her gaping. "Uh...Lieutenant, this is–"

"Yue." Liang's face was sheet-white, as if she'd seen a ghost. " _Yue_."

"My God." Yue's hands both covered her mouth. "You're alive–"

" _You're_ alive–"

"What." Anne stared as they both nearly tackled each other at the same instant, bursting into tears in each other's arms. "Uh..."

"Should I be concerned?" Lilah eased a step toward Cameron. "Liang?"

"No, no..." Liang didn't let go of their new arrival. By the look of her, she didn't ever want to. "This is...I thought..."

"You thought wrong, then." Yue chuckled, deep in her throat. "You always did jump to conclusions...sis."

* * *

 **Author's Note Seventy-three: Templar + Bladestorm + Lost = Free XP**

Sorry for the delay. Road trip and vacation last week, had no access to my writing machine, so I got very behind. And you won't believe me, but then my wife's car died in an intersection and I've been running around trying to get it fixed(she's okay). Very, very sorry, but here I am again. Hopefully no more delays next week, but I'm not fool enough to promise that, sorry.

This moment is an organic one that happened without any player intervention in my campaign with Liang and Cameron(yes, they were bonded soldiers in one of my ironman runs). I happened to rescue a VIP named Yue Liang, and in true XCOM fashion I just couldn't help but fill in the gaps on why and what. Go back to Chapter Thirteen: I set this up over a year ago. Stupid delays...

Until next time, _Vigilo Confido_.


End file.
